AWOL (Unedited)
by dalekchung
Summary: Strange things have been happening in the espionage world. Top spy Agent Alex Rider has gone AWOL, and a new SAS soldier has caught the attention of MI6. How long is Trevor Lee going to deny the truth? (Soldiers and spies and unidentified antagonists, oh my!)
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER** **: I do not own Alex Rider.**

AWOL 01

Through his whole twenty-two fake years of living, he had never experienced something as painful as SAS selection. Sure, he had been captured plenty of times and had been tortured mentally and physically, but it seemed trivial to what he was going through now.

He was being hunted. He had been the hunted for quite some while now, moving stealthily through the barren trees, careful not to leave any tracks. He knew that he was going against seasoned SAS soldiers, some specially trained in tracking down the enemy, but he had been trained too. Trained not to leave a trace. Trained not to make a mistake.

He knew he had impressed the Sergeant the moment he had walked into the training grounds. He was younger than most of the recruits there, save for one arrogant, young soldier, but he had surpassed the other recruits in skill. He'd returned the fastest on hikes, lasted the longest, and never missed his mark. He knew he would make it in, but it didn't stop his adrenaline from rushing through his veins as he ran through the trees in his trench coat.

 _Snap!_

He cursed under his breath when he heard the obvious approaching soldiers. They were close. He couldn't let them capture him.

So he ran, faster and just as silent.

Cold air nipped at his face. His small pack of supplies was pressed against his rib cage as he ran, the items making little noises as he ran.

"I see him!"

His heart beat faster as he heard the cry. He had lasted almost the length of the three days. Damn it, he was _not_ going to spend more time in Tactical Questioning than he needed.

 _Keep running._

His primary goal was to get away from the hunters. He fumbled with his supply pack as he ran, reaching for the map that pointed him towards his reporting location. He had to last one more hour before reporting there, where he knew he would be hauled away and questioned for a grueling twenty-four hours.

" _Just shoot him with a fucking dart already!"_

 _Whiz!_

He ducked into a roll as he heard the dart. Without stopping, he continued his frantic running, barely registering how close the dart had come to his neck.

" _What the fuck? Shoot again!"  
Pop!_

He veered sharply to the right when he heard the dart whizzing next to him. He was already beginning to pant. The others couldn't keep chasing him forever.

 _Pop!_

"Shite," he mumbled, feeling the needle pierce his skin, right through the vintage World War Two coat he had been given.

"Got him!" A cheerful voice said, laughing, "Man, he was the best out of all of them. Loads of fun."

He was still running, but his vision was getting blurry.

" _Oomph!"_ He swore that the tree he had collided into hadn't been there a second before.

He lay on his back, his vision darkening. A figured leaned over him, grinning. He tried raising his hand to punch the guy, but his body wouldn't obey him. Instead, he settled for a slurred, " _I fuckin' hate soldiers,"_ before he succumbed into darkness.

A*W*O*L

He jerked awake, his hands handcuffed above him. He had been stripped to only his pants. Horrified, he stared down at his chest, which was littered with scars. Someone had to have had questioned his scars. His secret was going to be revealed.

He sat there for ages, noting the camera implanted in the wall, the nearly microscopic bug right next to him, and the speakers above him. It was playing some sort of noise that grated his ears, but after facing the real deal constantly, this seemed like nothing.

He closed his eyes. He might as well try to get some sleep. Staying awake meant nothing, especially because he knew that breaking out (a feat that he could easily accomplish) would result in his failure to join the SAS.

 _BAM._

The door burst open. He didn't jolt, like a normal person would. He just opened his eyes, lazily gazing at an evilly grinning Sergeant and a female nurse, judging by her uniform.

It was obviously his time to be questioned.

He was uncuffed and dragged to another room, forced to stand to attention in the middle of a dim room, in front of a table with a single, thin folder.

"Damn," the Sergeant was eyeing his scars with fascination, "You've been through a lot, I reckon."

He stood still, eyes never wavering from the Sergeant.

"What's your name, son?"

The friendly tone was a façade. He knew, but he had no choice but to answer with a cold, "I'm sorry, but I cannot answer that question."

The friendly demeanor was off in a fraction of a second. The Sergeant was now furious, yelling, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? I ASKED YOU A FUCKING QUESTION. ANSWER ME."

He was hiding a smile. Though he knew that this was all part of the Sergeant's tactics, he couldn't help but think of an overgrown toddler, screaming at him.

"ANSWER ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT. WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING NAME?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot answer that question."

The Sergeant hit the table with a sharp yell of frustration. He was trying to scare the recruit, but it wasn't working.

The man seemed to realize this. He sighed, stalking towards the door and letting in two soldiers.

He knew what was going to happen. He was going to be stripped bare while the nurse sneered at him. He would stand there, unyielding, responding to everything with a short 'I'm sorry, but I cannot answer that question'. Then, he would be thrown back into his prison. After a few hours of listening to the noises from the speaker, he would be screamed at again, but he wouldn't break.

He would never break.

A*W*O*L

"Trevor Lee: welcome to the Special Air Service. You'll now be known as Lynx."

The newly dubbed Lynx stood to attention in his new uniform with his new beret, standing in front of the Sergeant in his office. It was a familiar place, seeing as he had been there before, a couple years previous.

"Thank you, sir."

The Sergeant smiled. Lynx could tell it wasn't a façade, like he had been facing while he was in the final stages of recruitment.

"I have to ask," he leaned back in his chair, surveying Lynx, "How many times?"

Lynx stiffened, though he was sure the Sergeant didn't notice, "How many times what, sir?"

"How many times were you captured?" The Sergeant gave him a look that clearly said ' _don't be stupid'_ and continued with a, "I'm not dumb, Lynx. I know torture marks when I see one."

Lynx gave the Sergeant an ironic smile, "I'm sorry, but I cannot answer that question."

He was sure that the Sergeant was going to flip out, but instead, the man began laughing, choking out, "I knew I was right to pick you!"

Still chuckling, he stood and reached out a hand for Lynx to shake. The Sergeant gripped Lynx's hand, searching his face, "You are J-Unit's new sharpshooter. They're waiting for you in the hut. Dismissed."

Lynx saluted and exited the office, heading to the hut labeled "J-Unit". He paused at the threshold, breathing in deeply.

Seventeen year old Alex Rider was gone. Twenty-two year old Trevor Lee's life had just begun.

* * *

 **A/N: I know what you're thinking: ALICE, WHY ARE YOU STARTING ANOTHER CHAPTER STORY?**

 **Well, I'M SORRY! This fic kept on nudging me, telling me to write it... That sounded weird. Anyway, I'm not sure if I'll update often (just because _Operation Zeta_ is still being written). I really hope you guys like this.**

 **Apologies for the swearing... I watched this movie a while back about a dude and SAS selection, so... YEAHHHH... I did my research... I think that'll be the worst of the swearing.**

 **If you liked this, please review/favorite/follow! I swear I'm still working on OZ (hehe, the Wizard of Oz)! I'll probably work on this on the side.**

 **-A xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alex Rider. And I totally assumed that everyone knew what AWOL meant... SORRY!**

 _AWOL: Absent without leave (or absent without official leave)_

AWOL 02

"You're our new sharpshooter?" A disbelieving voice greeted Lynx as he entered the hut, "You look like a school boy."

Lynx faced a blonde haired man, about his height. He was well muscled, confident, and obviously the unit leader.

"Of the six recruits, we manage to get the runt?" The same man asked incredulously, glaring at Lynx with sharp shards of blue ice.

"Oh come on, mate," another man rolled his eyes, sitting on his cot, "You can't say that – you haven't seen him in action yet!"

"And you have?" The unit leader shot back, glaring at the younger man.

He was a bit older than Lynx, shorter than him, with black hair and startling grey eyes. He wore a mischievous grin that painfully reminded Lynx of his best mate.

"Welcome to J-Unit, kiddo," the guy grinned, "I'm Panther – communications. That scowling guy over there is Lion, our fearless leader. The guy in the corner is Tiger. He's the best medic in the camp!"

The man in the corner – Tiger – shot Panther a very deadly look. He was older than the other men, probably in his thirties, but he still looked in shape. He had dark ginger hair and a scar that stretched across the bridge of his nose, over his eyebrow, and trailed into his neat hair.

"I'm Lynx."

Panther prowled closer, roughly pushing in front of Lion to study him, "Where were you before the SAS? NO – let me guess – Paras?"

Lynx smiled faintly, "No, and I'd rather not say."

"Well that's not fun," Panther pouted, giving Lynx the puppy-eye look. He could already tell that Panther was the source of humor in the unit. From what he could see, Lion and Tiger were not very friendly.

"Leave him alone, Pan," Tiger spoke gruffly, "Better enjoy your last day of freedom, kid. We'll be evaluating you the whole day tomorrow."

Lynx nodded, stepping forward to claim his bunk. Lion stepped in front of him, eyes hard, "I don't know why the Sergeant assigned you to us," his voice was low, "but any mistakes, and I will make sure you're thrown out with a dishonorable discharge."

Lynx stared the man in the eye coolly, "I'm sure you will," he brushed past the blonde haired man, towards the only empty cot. His rucksack had already been brought there and with one look, he knew someone had decided to rifle through his stuff.

The rest of the unit seemed to know why Lynx had paused. Tiger nodded to Panther, "It was him."

"Was not!" Panther was bouncing about his cot.

Sighing, Lynx pulled a book out of his rucksack and shoved the rest under his cot.

"Jane Eyre?" Panther was perched at the foot of Lynx's bed, "What's that even about?"

Lynx sighed placing the book down, "Would you like to read it?"

Panther's face automatically crinkled in disgust, "No thanks. I hate books."

"He's joking," Tiger was lounging on his cot, reading a magazine, "He can't read."

" _Hey!"_ Panther was pouting, "I can read."

"Right," it was Lion this time, grinning at the black haired man, "Keep telling yourself that."

"Bullies," Panther muttered under his breath.

Lynx couldn't help but smile.

A*W*O*L

"Heard you got the runt of the litter."

Lynx sat alone, isolated from the rest of J-Unit. He had woken up before the others and had claimed a table for his unit, but they apparently didn't want to sit next to him.

"If he made it in the SAS, he better be good," Lynx heard Lion reply; "We're evaluating him today."

The other guy, another unit leader, sat down next to Lion. They were in the table in front of him.

"I heard about this one recruit from Jay," the man was keeping his voice low so others couldn't hear him, "Apparently, one recruit lasted almost the full three days in the escape and evade part of selection. Don't tell anyone. We're not supposed to know the results."

Lion nodded, "I don't get why the Sergeant decided to assign the most inexperienced recruit with us," he shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth, "I thought J-Unit meant more to him than this."

"Don't feel too bad, mate," the other man clapped Lion on the back, "S-Unit got two new recruits. Shark says they're afraid of their own shadow."

"But S-Unit is a new unit," Lion sounded like he was about to stab someone.

Lynx stood abruptly, dumping his trash in the bin and heading back to his hut. No one stopped him or challenged him, which was a nice change.

He reached into his rucksack by his bed, pulling out the folder that he had received from the Sergeant. His first activity was the assault course. If he remembered correctly from the last time he'd been there, it was literally hell.

Sighing, he perched on his cot, waiting for the rest of J-Unit to return.

It didn't take long. Within minutes, he could hear Panther's loud voice calling for him.

"Lynx! Assault course time!" He sang.

Lynx stood, making his way out of the cabin where the three soldiers waited for him.

"I _love_ when we don't have to train," Panther said happily to Lion, "I like to laugh at people's failures."

"Yeah, we know, Pan," Lion rolled his eyes before facing Lynx, "Just try to get through the course as fast as you can. Any time over sixteen minutes results in press-ups and another go."

Lynx nodded, following the unit leader as he spun on his heel and marched towards the course – conveniently right beside the cabins.

To his surprise, Lynx saw the Sergeant patiently waiting, talking with the Drill Sergeant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Panther nudge Lion hard.

J-Unit snapped to attention in front of the Sergeant.

"As you were, soldiers," the Sergeant nodded to them. He turned to give Lynx a look as if to say _'I'll be watching…'_ before speaking, "I've taken a particular interest in this unit – pretend I'm not here." He strode off to take refuge under a small pavilion.

"Right," the Drill Sergeant cleared his throat, "Lynx, right? Go on – under sixteen minutes."

Lynx suddenly wore a feral look on his face as he sprinted off.

In his years with MI6, he'd grown up. He had been tutored by MI6's finest. He'd been tailored to be the best – to be the fastest, the strongest, the cleverest.

Heart racing, feet flying, Lynx felt free. He scaled the wall easily, leaping over obstacles like they were mere pests. He effortlessly crawled under the barbed wire, grinning as he reached the end of the course and jogged back to the gaping soldiers.

"Fifteen oh four," the Drill Sergeant reported, making a note on a clipboard, "Looks like he beat your time by five seconds," he directed at Lion.

Lynx noted the lingering Sergeant. He was visibly showing that he was impressed, though Lynx had no idea why. The Sergeant had overseen the whole selection. He hadn't paid much attention to Lynx then – why now?

"Not bad, Lynx, not bad," the Drill Sergeant nodded to himself, "I see why you're a valuable asset."

Lynx stayed silent, feeling the stares from his unit-mates.

"I believe you've got a seminar next. What is it this week? Something about medicine?"

"No, sir," Lion answered, "It's about covert operations."

The Drill Sergeant nodded thoughtfully, then dismissed them with a flick of his hand. He retreated, heading for the Sergeant.

"Well that was odd…" Lynx heard Tiger mutter right before Panther pounced.

"Damn, Lynx," he was grinning, "Where'd you learn how to do that? There's no way you weren't a Para!"

Lynx shook his head, not bothering to respond to him. Instead, he turned to the other two, "Where's the seminar held?"

He thought he heard a bit of respect in Lion's voice as he responded, "There's a set of unused classrooms by the Killing House. C'mon. Panther, stop being a little kid."

Lynx took his place behind his unit again, unwilling to join a chattering Panther and the stoic _Liger._ It almost hurt him physically to talk to Panther too long. He reminded Lynx too much of Tom.

"What do you think, Lynx-a-doo?" Panther asked, flinging a muscled arm over Lynx's shoulders.

"Huh?" Was Lynx's ever so intelligent reply.

"I said," Panther was grinning, "Don't you think it'll be cool to learn from the pros?"

"The pros?" Lynx questioned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Oh my sweet kittens," Panther withdrew his arm, "Keep up, will you? SIS agents are coming in. They only come in once every three years or something."

Lynx's blood ran cold. It really was just his luck, wasn't it? He couldn't have a normal life without MI6 entering his life.

"I suppose it'll be cool," Lynx lied through his teeth, quickening his pace.

"Did you know a couple years back, a guy named Fox was recruited into MI6? No one was supposed to know, but one of the units found him in Afghanistan, nearly dead. It was awesome!" Panther had taken up speed talking.

"It was awesome that he was nearly dead?" Lynx deadpanned, giving Panther a strange look.

"Noooo…" Panther stretched the word out, "That he became a spy. Maybe I should be a spy… I'll ask Fox next time he swings 'round."

Lynx held his tongue. He had this problem with most nearly everyone he met. They just had to bring up the fact that being a spy was cool.

It really wasn't.

"Let's sit in the front!" Panther flounced to Lion.

He shook his head, much to Lynx's relief, "We'll sit in the back like we usually do. Now shut up and act like an actual soldier."

Panther pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key.

Lynx's lips twitched into a small smile as they entered the classroom. He thought the appropriate word was auditorium since the place was quite large, filled with rows of chairs.

J-Unit settled in the very last row. Lynx had the misfortune of sitting next to an excited Panther. His foot taped impatiently on the ground.

Lynx's heartbeat sped up as he stared at the mini-stage in the front of the room. What if someone recognized him? Sure, he'd dyed his hair brown, but that was basically it. He knew that the SAS didn't allow anything that would properly disguise him.

Lynx just hoped that he was too far away from the stage for the agents to see him. Better yet, he hoped that MI5 came in, though he doubted it. After all, Panther had said that SIS agents (otherwise known as the bloody MI6 bastards) were coming in.

He sighed to himself, wondering how he'd gotten tangled back up with them even after he moved to America. That was simple after a moment of thought. Lynx was simply too curious for his own good. Factor that in along with still bitter terrorists… He'd pretty much caused a crisis in America, forcing him to move back to MI6 protection.

" _Look!"_ Panther was shaking Lynx, "They're here!"

Lynx peered at the two figures on the stage. His heart nearly stopped in anticipation.

 _Well fudge cakes._

* * *

 **A/N: Idk. It's about 2:15 AM right now, and I'm just sitting here writing this up. I literally wrote a 5,000 word chapter before realizing that it totally didn't fit the plot. So I came up with this! TA-DA!**

 **I'm not really sure why, but I'm just in a sort of mood to write this story. I've already started the third chapter, but honestly, I think I'm going to rewrite that after I get _a lot_ of sleep...**

 **I'm working on _Operation Zeta!_ Don't worry. It's just that I'm not very satisfied with how Chapter Eleven is turning out. (AND ELEVEN HAS TO BE GOOD. HE'S MY FAVORITE DOCTOR). So yeah. Gotta rewrite that too... Gosh you should see my flashdrive. I have 26 drafts of various works just on the AR fandom... I think in total I have about 100 or more drafts from original stories/other fandoms.**

 **Well, I'm going to post this, then sleep. YAS. If you liked this, please review/favorite/follow! Thank you to everyone who did for Chapter One! It means a lot!**

 **-A (*MWAH*)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just realized I never answered that question about what movie I mentioned in the first chapter. SORRY! I don't recall the name, but it's somewhere on Netflix :)**

 **DISCALIMER: I don't own Alex Rider.**

AWOL 03

Lynx recognized the two figures instantaneously. They had ruined any chances of a normal life for him. Tulip Jones and John Crawley. Lynx didn't harbor passionate hatred towards the two, but he wasn't exactly buddy-to-buddy with both of them either.

By then, most of the auditorium had filled up. To be honest, it reminded Lynx of a school assembly. Everyone chattered excitedly to their friends and unit-mates. Lynx was the exact opposite of that. Panther was trying to make conversation with him, but eventually gave up, seeing that he was unresponsive.

Lynx tore his eyes away from the two spies. He knew they had a sixth sense or something. They could feel when someone's eyes lingered on them too long.

"You can't _not_ be excited!" Panther was saying to Tiger, who was sitting next to him.

Tiger shrugged, "They're bloody spies. Why should I be excited?"

"They're masters at covert operations!" Panther was leaning closer to Tiger, right in his face, "I bet we'll be loads better once the seminar is over."

"Yeah right," Lion was rolling his eyes, seated next to Tiger, " _Loads."_

Panther ignored the sarcastic edge to his voice, "And maybe we'll _finally_ be sent on a covert operation."

"What?" This caught Lynx's attention, "You've never been on a covert operation?"

"We're mainly used as snipers," Panther looked disappointed, "Because we're the best – which means you should be bloody amazing."

"Idiot," Lion rolled his eyes yet again, "That counts as covert."

Panther was full out pouting out, "You know what I mean! Like an actual mission where we're the Alpha team – in disguise 'n all."

"Maybe it's because you can't keep your mouth shut," Tiger muttered, loud enough for Lynx to hear him.

"But Tiger!"

"Soldiers," the entire assembly hall was shushed as Mrs. Jones spoke into the microphone on the podium.

Panther grabbed onto Tiger, a grin on his face. Lynx wondered if he was _slightly_ insane.

"Thank you for joining Agent Crawley and I here today for your Covert Operations Lecture," her voice was a perfectly flat line – no emotions. Lynx stifled a yawn, "As you may know, I am the head of SIS or, in the common vernacular, MI6."

Every soldier was enraptured by her words, even though she was as lifeless as a porcelain doll.

"I am here today to show you how a spy operates and perhaps you will take a few tips from this lecture. To do this, I will be telling you about our best spy. We will not share his or her identity. However, I am sure you have heard rumors. After all, a few of you have worked with him," Lynx's stomach churned, "But those soldiers have signed the Official Secrets Act. The others – you are bound to the contract that you signed with the government. Anything said here does not leave the camp. If this is leaked, you will find yourself with no money, no family, and no life. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" The soldiers barked in unison.

"Good," Mrs. Jones nodded, "Let's proceed. For simplicity, we will call the agent Double O Seven."

Lynx could see that the soldiers wanted to laugh, but in an attempt to look professional, they hid it. It was unfortunately evident.

"Double O Seven was not hired in the customary way," Mrs. Jones began, "Instead, he caught the attention of the former head of MI6 because he had a few relatives in the agency."

Lynx cringed when he realized that she had indirectly given a hint that their number one spy was male. He hoped that no one had caught on.

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and a screen flickered on, controlled by Crawley.

"Double O Seven was brought in under the belief that he was going to a bank, but it was apparent that he did not believe our guise," Mrs. Jones nodded to the screen, which showed a picture of a figure hanging onto a flag outside a _very_ tall building, "and this is how he proved himself.

"He found out the truth about us and accepted a mission. He was sent for brief training – much like the training you received – and was sent for his first solo mission."

Mrs. Jones began to elaborate further, throwing in little white lies from time to time, but mostly sticking to the story. It amazed Lynx how much detail MI6 actually knew about his first mission. He hadn't exactly gone into much detail when he had been debriefed.

Lynx closed his eyes, shivering at the memories. It had been one of his better missions he admitted to himself, but it had been the one to take away his innocence – the one mission to rip his innocence away and leave an adult behind.

"Double O Seven was then sent undercover as the son of a wealth, economically powerful man…"

Again, one of his better missions. Despite his constant, mental reassurances, Lynx's hands began to shake in his lap. It was thankfully very dark in the back. No one could see his internal dilemma.

And on and on Mrs. Jones went – all through the twenty-six missions he had been on, occasionally blurring the lines of a fact or adding some events that didn't really happen.

Lynx was glad no one could see him because he was shaking all over, his eyes closed and his heart racing extremely fast.

It wasn't even a proper lecture about covert operations. It was a history of what he had done, maybe with one or two tips mixed in.

Paranoia suddenly set in. Maybe they were onto him. Maybe they knew he had fled to the SAS after his last mission.

Lynx steadied himself. If that was MI6's intention, he wouldn't let them catch him. He had to act like a normal soldier: hard, like he'd seen a bit of war, but ultimately inexperienced.

"Questions?"

A soldier in the front of the room raised his hand. Mrs. Jones gestured for him to speak.

"How long did it take for – erm – Double O Seven to accomplish the twenty-six missions?"

"I'm sorry, but that is classified." A true spy-like response, "Anyone else?"

No one dared to raise their hands.

"Good. We will move on to the analysis of our agent's actions and why he is one of best spies. Agent Crawley?"

Lynx listened, stone-faced. He couldn't help the twitching in his hand as Crawley began in his droning voice.

"That was _epic!"_ Panther was skipping happily along J-Unit as they exited the hall. Lynx had finally quieted his hand as well as his nerves, "You're so lucky that was your first seminar. Not all of them are so interesting."

Lynx shrugged, putting on an indifferent façade, "It was okay."

"Is that why you were shaking with excitement?" Panther teased. Lynx's insides had frozen. The soldier was more observant than he had thought. He'd underestimated the hyperactive man.

"No," Lynx didn't bother to provide any more information.

"Stop bothering the kid, Pan," Lion was walking alongside Tiger in front of them, "We have languages next. Kid," he was addressing Lynx, "which language did you sign up for?"

Lynx raised his eyebrows, "I wasn't told to sign up for any language."

"Bloody useless," he heard Lion mutter under his breath, "Fine, come with me."

Lynx nodded as the other two separated. The other soldier offered an explanation, "Tiger takes Arabic and Panther takes beginner French."

Lynx fell in step with his unit leader.

"Everyone is required to take a language. It helps when we're out in the field – that's something that someone should have told you," Lion told him, frost covering his words, "I take advanced Spanish."

Lynx nodded, noting the gleam in his eyes. He didn't like it. Lynx knew that look all too well. He'd been on the receiving end of that more than once before.

"Hola _,"_ a simple greeting from the instructor as the two slipped into the classroom, "¿Quién es?" _Who is this?_

"Hola Señor Rosario," Lion greeted with a smirk, "Este es el nuevo chico." _This is the new kid._

Lynx noted that Lion fumbled with his words a little and spoke with a strange accent, but he supposed it was pretty good.

"Should he be in this class?" The instructor switched to English, giving Lynx a piercing look.

"He's just trying this class out for now," Lion cut in smoothly, "Says he's already proficient in this language."

Lynx started at the false statement. He had most certainly _not_ said that. He realized Lion's intentions. He was out to get Lynx, just like every soldier he'd ever worked with. Apparently, Lynx hadn't proved himself on the assault course.

"Does he now?" The instructor turned to Lynx, the same arrogant light in his eyes.

Lynx noted dully that the class was watching them, little smirks on their faces. Bullies really didn't change much, did they?

"Hable," the instructor commanded. _Talk._

Lynx swallowed, "Erm – Me llamo Lynx. Soy un soldado como ustedes. Soy fluente en español porque cuando era niño, vivía en España con mi tio."

 _My name is Lynx. I'm a soldier like you guys. I'm fluent in Spanish because when I was a child, I used to live in Spain with my uncle._

The instructor remained unimpressed, "Hable más." _Talk more._

Lynx gave an awkward shrug, his eyes scanning the walls of the classroom, looking for something to inspire him to talk. He nodded to a painting pinned to the wall and began a long, lengthy speech about its history.

He shifted uncomfortably at the stares as he talked. He wasn't used to being in the center of attention like this, but for the sake of his pride, he didn't back down.

When he finished, the instructor nodded approvingly, "Not bad," he said in English, "sit down and don't talk."

Lynx nodded and crossed the room, sitting at an empty desk. It reminded him of his school days – something MI6 had robbed him of. He'd graduated a year early under the instruction of MI6, then had sped through nearly two years of university in the span of one under the instruction of a professor in Oxford.

He tapped his fingers silently on his desk, listening to the instructor as he drilled every soldier individually, laughing at their failures. Across the room, Lion glared menacingly at Lynx as he was reprimanded for using the wrong tense.

When the instructor reached Lynx, he merely gave a small scoff and moved on to the next soldier.

He'd passed the test yet again.

* * *

 **A/N: Hola little Daleks! I don't like that ending... but I wanted to post something and I have a math test I'm supposed to take (online), lol. Have you noticed how much I like** **clichés?** **Kind of funny now that I look at all these** **clichéd stories I write. Credits to whoever first came up with them (most likely amitai, yeah?)**

 **Haha, sorry to disappoint, but it wasn't Ben! I have something... special... planned for him...**

 **Anyway, thank you _so so so so so_ much for reviewing, following, and favoriting! I mean, 26 reviews for only two chapters? CRAY-CRAYYYYY.**

 **Last thing: I'm challenging you guys to accept one (or two or three) of the prompts that I have posted for July in my forum titled "Revival". I've made it my mission to continue this kind of "Revival-Fest" for this fandom. If you do, leave a comment in the forum, and I'll come check your story out (leaving a review, of course)! I'll pick my favorite story and dedicate one of my chapters (any story - the writer picks) to the writer! Yay or nay?**

 **-A xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider.**

AWOL 04

Lion was evidently not pleased as he stalked out of the language classrooms to meet up with the rest of J-Unit. Lynx followed, frowning at the other man's back. He had a feeling that his time at the SAS would be exactly like the last time he was there.

"Lion!" Lynx could identify Panther's voice from anywhere. He always sounded so damn excited, "Lynx! How was Spanish?"

Lion just shot a dirty glare at the man and stomped away to meet Tiger, who had emerged out of a classroom.

 _Immature._ Lynx felt older than his unit-mates.

"Was it that bad?" Panther turned to Lynx, his voice faltering at the unit leader's rudeness.

Lynx shrugged, not bothering to reply to the other man's words. Instead, he changed the topic, "What's next?"

The other two soldiers had fallen back to join the younger members of the unit. Lion still looked cross, but he still replied with a short, "Shooting."

"Then we've got the Killing House," Tiger supplied helpfully, "And a hike. We don't have any night exercises for tonight, but I'm pretty sure we're getting a surprise RTI sometime this week."

Lynx raised his eyebrows in surprise, "How do you know?"

After all, what was the point of a "surprise RTI" if it wasn't a surprise?

Tiger shrugged carefully, "The schedule always lightens up a bit when an RTI is coming."

He was observant, Lynx noted, nodding. The whole bloody unit was so observant. He'd have to be careful around them.

"Are you any good?" Panther shoved his hands in his pockets, "'Cause, no offence mate, but you look like you can't handle a gun."

Lynx inwardly bristled at the insult, but he forced the irritation away, "I suppose I'm alright."

Lion was suddenly in his face, stopping the whole unit in their tracks, "You embarrass this unit," he growled lowly, "and I _will_ go through with my threat. A dishonorable discharge with no future ahead of him."

Lynx stared defiantly into the man's eyes, not wavering at the fury in Lion's eyes, "Like I said: I'm sure you will."

Lion glared a bit more before drawing back and swaggering off.

"What the hell did you do to get him so angry?" Tiger frowned. It summed up what everyone was thinking.

"No clue," Lynx answered, though he did had a feeling it had something to do with his age.

Panther flung his arms over the two men's shoulders, forcing them to walk as he talked, "Don't worry, Lynx-a-doo! He was like this when I was put into J-Unit – all grumpy and nasty and stuff. You just have to let the guy have some time."

Lynx had the distinct feeling that Panther was lying to him. It helped that Tiger was giving him a look that clearly stated that it wasn't the case.

"Thanks, Pan," Lynx said tiredly, "But I don't think that'll happen."

Panther retracted his arms, managing to shrug at the same time. There was a small pause.

"You called me Pan!" Panther sounded delighted as he threw himself at Lynx, giving him a tight hug, "That means we're friends!"

Lynx stumbled, casting Tiger a pleading look.

The man flashed Lynx a smile, catching him off guard.

' _You're on your own,'_ he mouthed and darted away.

A*W*O*L

When Lynx finally got Panther to let go of him, they were slightly late to the shooting range. It wasn't a good thing for Lynx. Lion was going to kill him – literally.

"Don't worry," Panther was panting as they ran, "I'll tell him it was my fault. He knows how I get when I give people hugs."

Lynx didn't answer, too focused on getting to the shooting range, which was half a kilometer away.

"It was my fault!" Panther shouted as soon as they were within earshot of the awaiting unit, "I wanted to hug him! It was my fault!"

Lynx hid a grin as Panther rocketed to Lion, grabbing ahold of him and doing his best pouty-face impression.

"Stop," Lion staggered backwards, awkwardly holding up Panther's weight, "Okay, okay, it was your fault. Geroff me, you little-"

Tiger calmly strode over, prying the two apart. He called over his shoulder, "Take your pick. We're starting off with the sniper rifles."

Lynx nodded turning to the armory, where he could see rows upon rows of guns neatly resting on racks. He spotted the sniper rifle immediately and snatched one up.

"You done yet?" Lion sounded impatient.

Lynx emerged a moment later, carrying the gun to a nearby table. He began disassembling it, checking for jams, "Shouldn't there be a Drill Sergeant here or something?"

"We're evaluating you," Lion said, tone brusque, "He already knows your skill level."

Lynx cocked his head in curiosity, but didn't reply. He finished assembling it in a blink of an eye, looking at Lion expectantly.

"We're going to go out there," Lion pointed at an empty grass field, "and we're going to wait for the target - or targets – to pop up."

"And what are the targets?" Lynx asked, grabbing a pack of ammunition.

"Cardboard people," Lion said casually, "Some are friendly civilians, others aren't."

Lynx tensed, his fingers curling around the gun tightly. He knew that the SAS didn't use pictures on their targets, but it still didn't help to be reminded of his time at…

"Come on," the unit leader walked off, leaving Lynx to follow.

They settled on top of a patch of flattened grass. Lynx loaded the rifle, laying down on his stomach as he peered through the scope.

The unit beside him became silent as they gazed at the field.

"This is boring," Lynx could hear Panther whispering to the others.

"Shush," Lynx felt that Tiger was some sort of fussy mother, "Just wait."

Ten minutes passed, with still nothing in sight.

"Can't I go shooting? You know I need work with handguns!" Panther muttered quite loudly to Lion.

"Handguns can wait until evaluations are over," Lion replied, not bothering to talk quietly.

"But _you're_ the one who said-"

Something flickered. Lynx had his rifle trained on it in a second, shooting after noting the painted gun in the cartoonish figure's hands.

The shell of the bullet popped out. Lynx was quick to place another cartridge in.

 _Lock 'n load._

He had two bullets to use.

The next four pop-up targets were civilians, obviously meant to trick Lynx.

"He's good," he heard Tiger say as he shot another cartoon guy, "Let's get on with it, yeah?"

" _Finally!"_ Panther sounded relieved as Lion called out for Lynx to stop, "Do we have time to _actually_ go shooting?"

Lynx caught Lion's begrudging nod of approval directed at him.

"Just a few rounds," Tiger announced, "You can go shooting while _we,"_ he gestured at Lion and himself, "evaluate Lynx, which _you,"_ he pointed at Panther, "should be a part of."

Panther let out a groan, "Fine. No need to get snappy, _Tigger_."

Lynx grinned, hearing Tiger's annoyed sigh.

They were a sort of dysfunctional family, Lynx realized as he put away his rifle and picked up his preferred handgun. He was forced on their little family, and as cooperative as Tiger and Panther were, Lion wasn't going to accept him. Not yet at least.

* * *

 **A/N: Well. That was a filler... Not much really happened... I'm actually a little disappointed.**

 **Like my use of "swaggered"? Hehe, I learned that word when I first read the _Harry Potter Series_. Of course that's how J.K. Rowling would describe Draco (I love him so much...)**

 **Hmm, I'm beginning to think that work best at 2-3 AM because that's literally the only time I write. And I'm not sure why I'm dragging out Lynx's evaluation out in different chapters... It might have something to do with the fact that without it, I'd be updating once a month with a 10,000 word chapter. Meh.**

 **A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. It means the world to me that you guys like this!**

 **And a shout out to True Colours: Your review made me smile like a crazy... llama? I've always struggled with maintaining a consistent voice and a consistent character with a consistent style. It means so much to hear someone say that in a review! (I'm not sure if anyone has noticed that in my stories). Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

 **Oooh, and while I'm doing this, to Guest: haha, sorry, but I'm not telling! Ben will make his own... _spectacular..._ entrance...**

 **Of course, everyone's reviews have made me so happy! I feel like one of those little digital pets for kids that become happy when you feed them... the food being reviews, haha.**

 **Don't forget to feed me on the way out! I love you guysssss!**

 **-A xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alex Rider.**

AWOL 05

" _Damn."_

Even through the mufflers on his ears, Lynx could hear Panther's loud voice.

"I told you," Panther said to J-Unit after Lynx fired another round, "The Sergeant wouldn't put a pansy-cake into our unit."

Lynx fired another round, cutting off Lion and Tiger's response. He lowered his gun, examining the moving targets with interest. He'd hit each one in the same place, directly in the center.

He flicked on the safety on his gun, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He was accustomed to the paranoid feeling, especially in the camp. Everyone was watching him like some sort of alien specimen.

He turned, taking off the mufflers.

"That was _epic,"_ Panther bounded over to him.

Lynx's eyes slid past the zealous man towards Tiger and Lion. The older man showed no emotion besides a small nod. Lion, however, was scowling deeply.

Obviously still not satisfied, then.

Lynx crossed the shooting range towards the armory. His paranoia hadn't gone away. Something – someone – was watching him. Something other than J-Unit.

He turned around, scanning the perimeter of the shooting range.

 _There._

A grey business dress. Everyone knew not to dress well in Brecon Beacons. There was always an extremely high chance that you'd be covered in mud by the end of the day.

Lynx turned around again, moving slowly towards the armory. He knew that MI6 were like predators. Any sharp movement would cause them to pounce and go for the kill.

"Killing House," Lion said shortly when Lynx arrived back to the little group.

As they left, Lynx gritted his teeth, hoping that he wouldn't be recognized by the two agents.

"That's the one," Lynx heard faintly as they passed the two.

Paranoia.

He forced himself not to glance behind him as they walked, though he could still feel their gazes on his back. His hair stood on end as he dropped his eyes to his military combat boots.

"-ou listening?"

Lynx snapped out of his trance, staring at a very angry blonde, "Sorry?"

"Well _shit,"_ Panther hissed to Tiger, though the other two could hear him just fine.

"That's _it_!" Lion snapped furiously, "I can't fucking deal with an inexperienced, daydreaming, barely decent soldier! You two," he glared at Tiger and Panther, "wait for me at the Killing House. _You_ are coming with me to the Sergeant's Office."

Panther cast Lynx a terrified look before Tiger dragged him away.

Lynx didn't say anything as the unit leader roughly shoved him forward towards the Sergeant's office.

He knew with a certainty that he wasn't going to be kicked out. He'd been one of the best recruits.

Lion knocked on the door, still looking furious.

" _What?"_ The Sergeant didn't seem much happier. He sounded irritated, even angry.

Lion took this as an invitation and stomped in, dragging an apathetic Lynx behind him.

Lynx immediately took in his surroundings. It was exactly the same as the last time he'd been there besides the two MI6 agents standing in front of the Sergeant's desk.

He had some serious, bad Karma.

"We want J-Unit," Mrs. Jones completely disregarded the two soldiers, continuing to speak.

"They're not ready to go out in the field," the Sergeant shot back, his eyes flickering to the two soldiers, who awkwardly shrunk back into a corner, "They just gained a new member."

Even at an angle, Lynx could see the smirk that grazed the woman's face, "Ah yes. Lynx, isn't it?"

She turned to face the two soldiers, "Why don't you join this conversation too? Connor? _Trevor?"_

 _She knew._

Of course bloody MI6 knew. They'd probably known the whole time. Lynx hadn't escaped at all in the past six months.

"Leave my soldiers out of this!" The Sergeant snapped, crossing his arms angrily, "You have your own agents at disposal."

Mrs. Jones reached over and tapped a file on the Sergeant's desk, "That's precisely it, Sergeant Morrison. My agent."

Lynx tensed. Was she going to reveal him? Were the months he'd spent training with the SAS in vain?

"Please wait outside," the woman told Lion and Lynx. When they both made a move towards the door, she called, "Just Lion. I'd like to talk to Lynx."

Lynx froze, breathing out a sigh from his nose, closing his eyes. Lion scoffed, pointedly slamming into Lynx as he left.

"Now that we're all on the same page," Mrs. Jones sounded satisfied, "Let's get started."

"The same page?" The Sergeant squawked indignantly, "We are most definitely _not_ on the same page."

"You didn't tell him?" It was addressed to Lynx. He slowly spun around, his hands balled in angry fists.

"Tell him what, ma'am?" He asked through gritted teeth. He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling them begin to tremble.

"Alex," Mrs. Jones said gently, "I understand your last mission was hard on you, bu-"

"Hold on," if the Sergeant wasn't angry before, he was definitely angry now, "What the fuck is going on? Who the _fuck_ is Alex? _What_ _fucking mission?"_

"My name is Lynx, _ma'am,"_ Lynx wanted to spit at her, but he refrained himself.

"Listen, Alex," Mrs. Jones reached into her pocket and popped out a peppermint, "Agent Daniels needs a rescue team. We _need_ you."

Lynx stayed stubbornly silent.

"I know you haven't seen eye-to-eye after your last mission in-" she faltered under Lynx's glare, "but he's been captured for at least a week now. God knows what they're doing to him."

If looks could kill, Mrs. Jones would have died a million times over. His hands still shaking, he steeled his nerves and growled lowly, " _Maybe_ I'd be willing to help if you hadn't _forced_ me to kill-" a flash of pain, "And if you hadn't left me to _rot_ for six _fucking months!"_

His voice grew steadily louder. He whirled on his heel, having the full intention of storming away. Away from MI6. Away from the pain.

"We'll tell them who you really are," the voice made Lynx's hand freeze on the doorknob, "We'll get you kicked out of the SAS. You'll spend the rest of your life in MI6's prison for the murder of ten thousand children and for treason."

Lynx was no longer in control of his body. He was shaking like a fallen leaf. He couldn't stop the tremors that coursed through his body, and the three military officials could plainly see it.

"We'll let you continue to play pretend here," Mrs. Jones said softly, "And we'll only ask you for help when there's no other alternative. We'll get MI6, MI5, and the rest of the military intelligence agencies off your back."

Lynx was defeated, "I really don't have any choice here, do I? As long as I'm alive I have no choice."

Even without seeing her face, he could hear the triumph in her voice.

"That's right, Agent Rider."

He turned around to see Mrs. Jones sucking on her peppermint, a stone-faced Crawley, and a very confused Sergeant.

"Hold on – _Agent Rider?"_

A*W*O*L

 _Green eyes peered at him through the little window in the door. He barely registered it, too tired from the physical strain on his body._

 _"MI6 fights with children now," he heard someone whisper. He was hallucinating. There was no other possible reason because just a moment ago, there was no one with him in his cell, "so we'll fight back with children too."_

 _The door in front of him swung open and a teenaged girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, appeared, holding a knife._

 _He could see she was terrified. Terrified of the power that she held in her hands. She didn't want to do this, but there was that man right behind her that always nudged her, telling her to do the right thing._

 _"I don't want to!" She cried, throwing the knife down at the man's feet. It clattered loudly on the ground, echoing in the room that he was imprisoned in, "I'd rather die!"_

 _The man nodded thoughtfully, looking at the girl with a new light in his eyes, "You'd save his life over your own?"_

 _The girl was hesitating now, glancing at the prisoner with her big, doe-like green eyes. She nodded defiantly, "Yes. Yes I would."_

 _The man smiled coldly, drawing a gun out from his jacket. The girl shrunk back, fear flashing in her eyes, but she more or less held her ground. Her hands were shaking, another tell-tale sign that she was afraid._

 _"It's a pity," the man switched off the safety on his gun, "that both of you will die."_

 _The prisoner closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the next part._

 _Bang!_

 _Thud._

 _He didn't have to open his eyes to know that the girl had been shot, directly between her eyes. He didn't have to look to know that the warm, sticky substance that covered his feet was the girl's blood._

 _She was yet another soul he'd failed to save. Another soul that he had killed._

* * *

 **A/N: I totally did not plan for that to happen. I mean... I had a whole plot planned out, but suddenly I just started writing and I couldn't stop the events from taking place and omg that was so weird and ahhh what do I do? ajsdkf this story might be shorter than I thought it'd be. Just kidding. What? Just kidding about the just kidding. I'm not sure what I'm talking about.**

 **Oh wow... Early update. Shouldn't I be writing the next chapter of Operation Zeta? UAHDIUAHOQ**

 **Alright, please review, favorite, and/or follow. Thank you so much for everyone's reviews for the last chapter!**

 **-A xx (I feel like my A/Ns are always too long, so I'm going to try to shorten it from now on!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider**

 **Dedication:** This is a new thing I'm starting. I just feel like I don't appreciate you guys enough... So this chapter goes to: _Atheriia!_ Thank you for your lovely review! It made me smile (like a psycho). And of course, thank you to everyone else for your reviews! You all motivate me to write :)

AWOL 06

 _"_ _Who are you?"_

 _Alex turned at the voice, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He hadn't heard the person come up from behind him. A first._

 _The owner of the voice was a teenage girl, around his age. She was small and petite, like a delicate flower. She was obviously suffering from malnutrition. Her face was sunken and hollow. Her black hair was a knotted mane._

 _"I'm Alex," he responded, looking at the girl with pity, "Who are you?"_

 _The girl made her way over, next to Alex. She knelt to peer out of the little crack under the door before responding._

 _"I-" her voice cracked, "I don't have a name. But they call me Unlucky Thirteen."_

 _"Thirteen?" Alex questioned, kneeling down._

 _"Because I'm Subject Thirteen," the girl clarified, "and the number thirteen is unlucky."_

 _"Oh," Alex didn't know what else to say, "How long have you been down here?"_

 _The girl looked away, her features morphing into a sorrowful look, "Seventeen years. My whole life."_

 _Alex reached over to place a comforting hand on her, but she backed away fearfully._

 _"Listen to me, Thirteen," he murmured lowly to her, "I'm going to get us out of here. We're going to be free."_

 _Thirteen, peering imploringly with her hazel eyes, asked in her wavering voice, "Promise?"_

 _Alex nodded, "I promise."_

A*W*O*L

"He won't stop thrashing!" Lynx heard someone snarl above him. The voice was unfamiliar. The person was holding him down. They were trying to kill him! They wanted to hold him hostage – to beat the information out of him.

" _No! No! I won't tell you!"_

"Get off of him, you fucking idiot!" someone else shouted. "You can't handle this by pinning him down."

The weight on him was lifted abruptly, but Lynx was still panicked. He leapt up, panting heavily.

"Lynx?" he heard the voice of someone familiar close to him. "Lynx, calm down. You're in the hut of J-Unit in Brecon Beacons. Remember?"

Lynx's breathing evened out and his vision cleared. He sat back down on his cot with a _thump,_ shaking a bit, "Wh-what?"

"You had a panic attack," Tiger was the one next to him, "or maybe a flashback. Did something traumatic ever happen to you?"

"He's a kid, of course not," Lion muttered from across the room. He was glaring at Lynx.

The man hadn't gotten any friendlier in the past week after he had tried to throw Lynx out of the SAS, but he had been passive. No more attempts to embarrass him. No more kicking or tripping or anything of that sort.

"No," Lynx lied, running his hand through his short hair, "it was just a bad dream."

Tiger looked at him skeptically, "Right… if you're sure."

He moved away, back to his cot.

Panther shot Lynx a concerned look before doing the same.

Lynx lay back down on his cot, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, the snores of his unit mates reached his ears once again.

He had tried so hard to keep his dreams a secret from his unit, but ever since Mrs. Jones had showed up the previous week, he found that it was harder to control his emotions. The head of MI6 had broken the little barricade in his mind with the simple reminder of his last mission.

He could never forget his last mission. Never.

Thirteen had been his constant companion for the entire six months he had been there. She never wavered, even though she had been terrified.

And now she was gone. He had killed her indirectly, but he had killed her nonetheless. He had promised to free her, and he had failed to uphold that promise. And it was all MI6's fault.

Lynx sighed, shifting on his side to gaze at the soldier directly across from him. He was glad that Tiger hadn't pushed him for more details about his temporary show of weakness. The only reason why he wouldn't have was because he had been through the same thing himself. It was the only explanation.

Lynx's thoughts drifted to MI6. In the six months the agency had left him alone, his feelings of animosity had faded away, but now that they had popped back into his life, he hated the secret service with ever fiber in his body. They _had_ to ruin everything, didn't they? Lynx was still serving his country. What did it matter that now he was a soldier and not a spy?

He turned again, closing his eyes. He wanted to get some sleep, no matter how uneasy it was.

 _Alex had stumbled to the edge of the compound, dizzy from malnutrition and blood loss. He felt pain – stabbing pain in every pore of his body. His muscles were sore, burning because he hadn't moved so much in a long time._

 _He hoped there would be help once he crossed over the fence because he knew he couldn't make it out on his own. He would collapse._

 _"Alex!"_

 _Was he hallucinating? That was Ben Daniel's voice. The older spy was a good friend and a good field agent. Alex could trust the man with his life._

 _"Ben?" Alex called, his voice hoarse. He tripped, falling forward._

 _A pair of arms softened his fall, but Alex hissed in pain, feeling his broken ribs and the wounds all over his body._

 _"Put him on the stretcher!" Ben shouted, "Come on! Come on!"_

 _Alex had briefly lost consciousness as he was lifted, the pain too great to bear._

 _"Stay with me, Alex. You have to stay with me."_

 _Alex struggled to open his eyes, "I-I'm… still alive."_

 _Ben laughed humorlessly, "You stupid arsehole. You're such an idiot."_

 _The younger spy tried grinning, but it probably looked more like a pained grimace. He propped himself up with great difficulty even though Ben scolded him._

 _"Why are we flying over the building?" Alex rasped, "They have weapons – they can shoot us down!"_

 _Ben looked over to the pilot of the helicopter before looking back at the battered teenager, "We have one last thing to do before we leave."_

 _Alex looked uncertainly at his friend, "What?"_

 _Ben looked away from the teenager, looking very uncomfortable._

 _"_ No," _Alex whispered in horror, his hands shaking, "No! No, Ben, you can't! There are innocent kids there!"_

 _"Hundreds," Ben agreed, "Maybe even thousands. But they're not innocent. They've killed and tortured. They'll continue if they're not stopped."_

 _"No!" Alex's arms gave way underneath him and he fell back, his vision turning black as he felt the pain course through him, "My friend, Thirteen, she's in there!"_

 _"Thirteen?" Ben's voice was tinted with disapproval, "She was one of the firsts, wasn't she? Project Zero. Whatever you think, she isn't one of your friends."_

 _Alex writhed around, trying to get up, but his body wasn't obeying him. Pain. Stabbing pain. Sharp pain._ Killing _pain._

 _"Sedate him," Ben said to someone behind Alex._

 _Alex writhed more, trying to get the sudden hands off of him. He didn't want any more needles!_

 _He was fading out of consciousness when he heard it. The deafening explosion of a bomb. Another bomb. A third. No one could survive three bombs._

 _The darkness claimed him._

Lynx jerked away, cold sweat trickling down him. His clothes stuck to him.

He gasped silently, getting out of his bed and stumbling out of the hut. He managed to make it all the way to the bathrooms before his supper made its reappearance.

When he finished, he stumbled to the sink, breathing heavily. He splashed his face with cold water, unshed tears in his eyes. He gripped the sides of the sinks, trying to slow his breathing as he stared at his reflection.

"You really have a problem, don't you?"

Lynx jumped at the voice, spinning around in a clumsy fighting position.

"Calm down, kid, it's just me," Lion approached cautiously, his face impassive.

Of course it was him. Lynx luck was just pure gold, wasn't it? He had given the other man the perfect ammunition.

"What do you want, Lion?" Lynx sighed, turning away from the other man to grab a paper towel.

"Nothing," Lion told the younger soldier solemnly, "It's just… Are you alright?"

Lynx noted that the man ground out the question with great effort, looking awkward and embarrassed.

"No," the soldier replied bluntly.

"Oh…" Lion inched closer, placing a hand on Lynx shoulder hesitantly, "I'm – uh – here if you need to talk."

Lynx chuckled at his apologetic behavior, "It's nothing. A mission gone wrong, I suppose."

To Lynx's relief, the other man retracted his arm, sticking his hands in his pockets, "Panther was right. You are a mysterious bastard aren't you? Where'd you come from? Paras? RAF?"

Lynx rolled his eyes, "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"It does," Lion argued half-heartedly, "Someone's obviously been misusing their power. It's not fair."

Lynx stared at the man in surprise. He hadn't expected _that_ to come out of his mouth. What had happened to the irritated, disagreeable man he'd known for the past week?

"Life isn't fair," Lynx finally said, tossing the paper towel away.

Lion nodded slowly, accepting his words, "Let's get back to the hut," he offered Lynx a small smile; "It's nearly time for breakfast anyway."

And so Lynx was _finally_ accepted.

* * *

 **A/N: I have to say that this chapter is a little... bleh... BUT this is a turning point for Lion and Lynx!**

 **I've decided to take down the "Monthly Challenge" thing because it seems like not many people are interested in it. However, I think it'll still be nice to have a Christmas gift-giving thing in addition to a SpyFest 2016. What do you think?**

 **Again, thank you for tour reviews, favorites, follows, and reads! It makes me so happy to hear your positive/critical comments!**

 **-Alice x**


	7. Chapter 007

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

 **Dedication:** To _Alison Archer_ for reminding me to keep things realistic. I agree with a lot of what you said in your review, and I understand most of your questions were rhetorical, but I'd like to try to answer them anyway and tell you what I was thinking when I wrote this. You put in lots of time to write that review, and I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you or ignoring your advice :)

Firstly about the recruits that were "afraid of their own shadow": keep in mind that the person who said this is a seasoned, well-trained, SAS soldier. I kind of imagined most of them looking down (for lack of better words) on the newbies.

About Lion: I imagined this to be similar to why Wolf hated Alex at first (but not quite). I'm not sure if anyone else has experienced this, but when you meet a hater, man, they _hate._ Like, they just pick up on small little things you do and attack you viciously. What I had going through my mind was that J-Unit is an experienced, well-respected unit that suddenly had a new recruit stuck with them. Lion probably wanted someone who wasn't "new to the business". Then, of course, suddenly Lynx surpasses Lion in certain skills, but doesn't seem to have put any effort at all into his actions and it all spirals out of control. Hate is irrational (sadly).

Panther: I modeled this guy after a certain personality type. Have you ever met someone that's extremely hyper and funny around their friends, but turn deadly serious in front of teachers, adults, or certain situations? This guy was modeled after my personality ( _not a self-insert, thank you very much, lol)._

As for J-Unit in general, Alex isn't the only one who has been through some trauma (*hint hint wink*)

Your last two rhetorical questions make an excellent point, and I have no answer to the last one except that Jones is apparently a little screwball in this story.

The one about Thirteen: I guess I didn't write this part very well (perhaps because I wrote this at 2 AM and thought it was perfectly fine). Thirteen wasn't the one who was shot – she was killed by the bombs. However, there is an unnamed little girl who was shot. I was thinking when she was shrinking backwards, she was going towards Alex. If that's a little doubtful, do keep in mind that Alex was partially hallucinating at the time.

I've also checked out the story you recommended. It's a great guide! (To anyone else who's reading this, it's called _How to Write an AR Fanfic that Doesn't Suck)._

Anyway, I'm really thankful that you've taken your time to help me out with my writing, and I'll keep it in mind as I continue to write! I hope the rest of the story is better! Oh, and if you rather not have this huge thing here (visible to everyone) please tell me, and I'll remove this right away.

OKAY – onwards!

* * *

AWOL 007

" _Look at me," Thirteen commanded, her grey-blue eyes flashing in the dim light. "Alex, you promised you would get me out. You promised you'd get everyone out."_

" _I will," Alex replied weakly, his words sounding pathetic even to him."I promised, and I never break my promises."_

" _Well, you broke it," Thirteen snarled. Alex shrunk back, noting how her grey-blue eyes flashed red. Her teeth grew longer and sharper until Alex was looking at a demonic version of Thirteen. She growled in the back of her throat, "You failed to save us."_

 _Alex shrunk even further back, feeling the wall press against his spine, "No! I_ will _save you!"_

" _You're a liar!" Thirteen prowled around him like a dangerous predator. "Do you even know how many children were in that building? Did you ever bother counting?"_

 _Alex shook his head furiously, "No, no! They're still alive, and I can still save them!"_

 _He made his way forward, but was stopped by Thirteen. She pointed at the door, grinning at him maliciously. He looked, eyes widening as he saw fire licking the crack underneath the door._

" _It's already too late, Alex," Thirteen stalked over to the door and wrenched it open. The fire roared in, engulfing her figure, but somehow she was still alive and not burning, "Just don't forget me – us."_

 _Behind her, figures of other children began to move, walking steadily towards him._

 _Alex stumbled back again, into the wall, as the flames got too close for his liking, "I'm sorry!"_

 _Thirteen merely turned, walking away in the flames._

Lynx woke up with a slight jerk, gasping silently for air.

 _Stop, stop, stop, stop._ He told himself as his hands began its usual tremors. It had been worse in the past two weeks, but he still somehow managed to keep it a secret from his unit. Though Lion had accepted him into the unit two weeks previous, Lynx knew that Lion didn't tolerate the public display of weakness. He was the kind of guy that wanted his unit to appear perfect to others.

Lynx sat up, rubbing his hands together as if that would stop the shaking. He eventually gave up, letting them rest in his lap.

Looking around at his unit mates, who were sleeping, he wondered if he had woken them up in the last two weeks. He had tried to keep quiet, but he couldn't control his dreams and his reactions to them.

Lynx frowned at the three. They were all unnaturally still, gripping their covers in tight fists. Lion had his jaw clenched, his eyes rapidly moving under his eyelids. Tiger slept similarly, but occasionally, he let out short huffs of air, like someone was pushing the wind out of his lungs. Panther, on the other hand was murmuring softly. Lynx had to strain to hear and even then he could barely make out any words.

" _Why did… me… don't…"_

Lynx sighed, laying back down on his cot. He had a sneaking suspicion after they had woken up to his nightmare that they weren't new to the whole PTSD business. That was expected, seeing as they were soldiers.

" _Duck… Ducky!"_ Panther was muttering.

Lynx closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he thought. His dream was rapidly receding from his memory, a sure sign that it hadn't been a flashback, but he still remembered the demonic form of Thirteen.

 _'Do you even know how many children were in that building?'_

Lynx shuddered at the voice in his head. He knew it was just his subconscious, but it didn't stop the chills.

 _'Did you ever bother counting?'_

Lynx turned on his side, staring at the floor.

 _One, two, three, four – there were four in the first cell._

 _'What were their names?'_ It was his subconscious again, whispering in his ear.

 _Samantha, Evy, Five… I don't know. I can't remember…_

Once again, his subconscious spoke, ' _Derek. If I remember, you remember._ _Thirteen told us about them in passing.'_

 _Five, six, seven, eight, nine – five in the next. One, Maple, Max, Seventeen, and Melody._

Originally, there was a tenth, simply called "Ten", but someone had taken him away two days before Alex's escape.

 _Ten, eleven, twelve…_

A*W*O*L

Lynx was still awake when the sun rose the next day. He was already dressed in his uniform, sitting outside in the dewy air, watching birds flutter around, calling out to one another in short, musical chirps.

"Don't think to hard," Lynx barely batted an eye at the loud voice, speaking into his ear. "You might hurt yourself."

He turned to find Tiger crouching beside him, a coy smile on his face.

"I should say the same for you," Lynx retorted, though his words held a slight teasing tone.

Tiger chuckled, his dark ginger hair turning lighter in the sunlight. It reminded Lynx of orange flame, the same color he had seen in his dream.

He resisted the urge to shudder, knowing that it would raise unneeded questions. Lynx had noted on several accounts that J-Unit was unnervingly observant, noting little things that he himself had barely noticed.

"Come on, kiddo," Tiger ruffled Lynx hair (though he barely had any) as he stood. "Let's get some breakfast before Panther hold up the line – _again."_

Lynx laughed, getting up and walking along with the soldier.

It was something of a joke within the camp. Panther was an excitable young man that sometimes didn't know when to shut his mouth. One of these occasions was when he stood in line for his daily intake of mushed food. He complained daily to the server, who merely rolled his eyes and called over the chef, who then would begin arguing with Panther. On rare occasions, the pair would start a shouting match.

No one seemed to mind the noise. In fact, many of the soldiers were entertained, watching daily as if were a television show. As a result, Panther was a very popular soldier.

Lynx accepted the plate of food that was handed to him. It wasn't exactly a gourmet meal, but it wasn't as bad as Panther – or any soldier – made it out to be.

As Lynx tucked in, Tiger waved to Lion, who had just received his food. He ducked away from Panther and the chef, who were in a heated argument already.

"They're at it again," Lion sighed irritably, shoving a fork full of scrambled eggs in his mouth, "Do people really enjoy it that much?"

Lynx looked around, noting that most soldiers were looking at Panther in interest. He couldn't hear what was said, but the pair's voices steadily grew louder.

"How do I know you haven't just cooked up some turtle eggs or something?" Panther was pointing at the scrambled eggs, his posture defiant.

Lynx looked from him to the two soldiers beside him, "Turtle eggs?"

"Don't ask," Tiger grunted, hiding a smile, though it was clearly evident, "Pan's got a theory that the cooks are trying to poison us."

"Well," Lynx sighed dismissively, "I guess that's better than the one about the radioactive spiders… and the one about the fried ants… and the one abo-"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it, thanks," Lion cut him off good-naturedly, watching as Panther stormed away from the chef, carrying a plate of food that seemed considerably smaller than the rest of theirs. Without a word, Lion, Tiger, and Lynx both pushed a portion of their food onto Panther's plate once he had settled next to them.

"Any success today?" Tiger questioned, looking bored as he threw another piece of egg into his mouth.

"I think they're cracking," Panther said brightly before promptly shoving a mouthful of food in his mouth.

"After two years here," Lion responded dryly, his blue eyes twinkling with silent laughter, "I'm surprised they lasted this long."

"Yo, J-U!"

Lynx looked up to see a soldier stealing a chair next to Lion and another, taking the vacant seat by Tiger. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence. They had many visitors throughout their meals. It seemed that J-Unit was a popular unit, something that Lynx hadn't noticed until a week ago.

"What's up, Frog?" Panther tried doing an American accent. The man who had spoken had a strong one. He had obviously lived in the States for a while.

The man laughed, leaning closer, "Nice try, Pan. Maybe one you live in America for a few years, you'll pick it up."

Panther responded by poking out his tongue immaturely, but it still made the other five laugh.

"Anyway," the other man, Octopus, if Lynx remembered correctly, directed his words to Lion, "that's not why we're here. The Sergeant wants to see you at 0730."

Lion nodded, "Will do. Thanks."

The two stood to leave, grabbing their trays, grinning all the while.

"Cheerful, aren't they?" Lynx questioned, putting down his fork as he stared at his empty plate.

Lion snorted, "Wait 'til you meet the rest of their unit. M-Unit: made up of Lab, Frog, Arrow, and Octopus. It literally spells out LMFAO if you rearrange it."

"Arrow?" Lynx questioned. The name wasn't animal themed.

Lion shrugged casually, "I guess the Sergeant ran out of animals."

"Don't be stupid," Tiger pointed his fork at Lion. "The poison dart frog used to be called the poison arrow frog-"

"But there's already a Frog there," Panther protested.

"Oi!" Lion interrupted before an argument could break out, "Why don't we discuss something more important: why does the Sergeant want to see us?"

Instantly, Panther paled, leaping up from his seat with a loud cry of, " _I didn't do it!"_

Several people surrounding them started, staring at the soldier for a moment before waving it off with laughter.

"Oh, sit down," Lion pulled the soldier down impatiently. "And what did you do? Every time you say that, you've done something wrong."

Panther scowled as Lynx and Tiger watched, amused, "I accidentally broke one of those machines down in the indoor shooting range."

Lion stared open mouth at the man. He seemed to look for the right words, " _Panther-!"_

"Oh, look at the time," Lynx quickly butted in, noting how Tiger sighed impatiently. Another argument was going to break out, though he suspected this would be lighthearted and full of teasing. "It looks like we have to report to the Sergeant's office."

Lion checked his watch, nodding in confirmation. The four stood in unison, grabbing their plates and putting them on the conveyor belt.

"What do you think he wants?" Lynx questioned as they left the hall. "What he really wants, I mean." He added the last part hastily as Panther opened his mouth.

"Maybe he's going to send us somewhere," Tiger suggested, "A jungle or whatever. We have refresher courses once in a while."

Lion made a small noise of agreement, but the walk to the Sergeant's office was otherwise silent.

A quiet, but firm knock from Lion, and they were in, standing to attention before the Sergeant.

"At ease, men," the Sergeant was standing too. Lynx noticed that he was fiddling with the material of his pants. The action stopped abruptly.

"Look," the Sergeant began, sounding very defeated, "I want you to know that I had no part in picking you out. We all know what happened six months ago-"

Lynx's eyebrows would have shot up if he hadn't been in the presence of the Sergeant. This was the first he had heard about the incident. He assumed that it had something do to with the rest of J-Unit's nightmares.

The Sergeant cleared his throat, reaching down to snatch four files from his desk. They were easily recognizable to Lynx. The outside was the normal manila color, an occasional paperclip poking out from where it held State secrets.

"Sir?" Lion questioned, sounding like someone was trying to shove a bullet down his throat.

"MISO has specifically ordered this unit to take this mission," the Sergeant said, glancing very briefly at Lynx. "It's a simply rescue mission for one of their agents."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lynx saw Tiger twitch, his gaze on the manila folders. He was glaring violently at them.

"Two of their agents died getting the information on these pages," the Sergeant warned. "They've apparently tried everything they could to rescue their agent, but it seems they couldn't break the agent out covertly. So it's our turn."

He handed out the folders, his face twisted into a pained frown, "Take the rest of the day off, men. I expect you to be ready at 2000 hours in the Field."

"The Field" was a grassy area where helicopters and other flying vehicles landed when they were sent on missions or refresher courses.

"Yes, sir!" The four soldiers replied in unison, looking straight ahead.

"Good," the Sergeant looked at them approvingly, "Dismissed."

J-Unit trooped out of the office, clutching their folders in one hand. They continued their silent walk to the hut, where each man sat on his cot.

Lynx found the silence odd. He had grown used to the constant bickering or random statements from Panther. He had previously found it to be irritating, but now, he wished for it. The silence seemed to hold a heavy weight that crushed him.

"Nigeria," Tiger noted as he skimmed through the information, "Not exactly my definition of fun."

Lynx opened his copy of the mission, eyes narrowing as he read.

 _Rescue Mission (Level 4 Clearance)_

 _Objective: Rescue Agent D****** from known terrorist organization (******; Level 7 Clearance)._

 _Associates: J-Unit (SAS; Level 4 Clearance). Lion (see file), Tiger (see file), Panther (see file), Lynx (see file), Agent D****** (see file; Level 7 Clearance), Agent R**** (Level 10 Clearance)._

Lynx stopped reading at that point. He gritted his teeth, furious at the head of had to go around gallivanting the fact that he was under her control, didn't she? J-Unit would question the mysterious name in the file, and Lynx didn't want to lie to his newfound brothers.

He continued to read, finishing only slightly later than the rest of J-Unit. They seemed indifferent to the appearance of the unknown agent. Perhaps they thought it was unimportant.

"Alright, you lot," Lion was already tucking the folder away. "Let's get some rest. We'll be gone for the whole night and part of the morning tomorrow."

Lynx, who hadn't slept much the previous night, snuggled back into his blankets gratefully. He vaguely heard Panther's voice calling out a strained, but relatively cheerful goodnight before he fell asleep, the figure of a demonic Thirteen reappearing with a screech in his dreams.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, honestly, I was in a daze when I wrote this. Oh... Might be because it's nearly 4 AM. I really should sleep, shouldn't I? BUT IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I got this awesome new laptop (thank goodness. My old Dell laptop was extremely slow and _very_ mean), and I've finally started NCIS! It's fantastic, by the way.**

 **Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! Thank you as always for your reviews. It makes me happy to see all your positive/negative (as constructive criticism). It lets me know you guys care :)**

 **'Til next time!**

 **-Alice x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Alex Rider.

 **Dedication:** To all my reviewers and supporters – you make me all warm and fuzzy on the inside! I've decided to take a moment and write responses to your reviews, shown in the A/N after the chapter.

* * *

AWOL 08

J-Unit was transported fifteen miles away from their location, the pilot promising to be there for the next forty-eight hours. It was unlikely that they would return within the first couple hours, but there would be backup waiting just in case they did find the injured spy.

Lynx followed Lion, who seemed sure of where he was going. He held a small GPS device in his hands, muttering, " _fifteen miles due East,"_ under his breath every once in a while.

Tiger followed closely behind the unit leader. Every once in a while, Lynx could make out his shape, reaching up to rub the scar on his face.

Panther took his place next to Lynx, flashing a reassuring grin. His white teeth were visible in the moonlight.

"Just think," he whispered, his trademark mischievous tone not quite reaching Lynx's ears, "the sooner we get back, the sooner we get our leave."

Lynx shot him an odd look, even though Panther probably couldn't see it in the darkness, "That's a month away, Pan."

Panther made a small, scoffing noise that let Lynx know he was rolling his eyes, "Yeah! Exactly."

"Shush," Tiger hissed back at them, "Someone might be watching."

"Listening," Lion corrected, turning back to glance at them.

They fell silent, listening to the chirping insects around them.

It took them three hours to get to the location, but as soon as they reached it, Lynx knew that they had to be in the right place. It was isolated from the rest of civilization, hidden easily in the trees and the undergrowth. It wasn't the largest building, but it was big enough to cause the four trouble.

It was obviously a fairly new building. The architecture was modern, and the building was composed of three floors.

"He should be on the second floor," Lion murmured quietly, putting the GPS away, "We're going to have to scale the wall and break in that window there."

Lynx assessed the wall carefully, eyes darting around the area, "We can't get up there. There's no place we can get our hooks in. We have to break in through the first story."

Lion cursed under his breath once he realized Lynx was right, "Okay, fine. We're going to break in, quickly and quietly, find the stairs, and get that agent out."

Tiger and Panther, who had remained silent nodded, determination written across their shadowed expressions.

"Wait," Lynx couldn't help but to interject, "Why?"

The other three gave him confused looks.

"I mean," Lynx clarified, "Why do we have to do this quietly? You read the file – there's only five people here, not including the agent. We can easily overwhelm them."

Lion nodded slowly, contemplating his words, "But I'm sure MI6 want it to be quiet..."

Lynx snorted, "Who gives a flying f-" Panther nudged him in the ribs, "Ow – we should just go in, knock out the guys, and take our agent."

"It would make things easier," Tiger agreed, drawing out his words.

Lion thought it over again, the rest of J-Unit waiting for his decision, "You're right. It would be easier and faster. We'll go through the front door, but I want us to stay as quiet as possible until we're spotted. Hopefully, they're sleeping and won't notice us."

"Unlikely," Panther snorted.

Lynx nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

"Let's go."

Lynx had his gun out, the safety off as they crept towards the building. Now that he was closer, it looked more like a very tall house.

"It's locked," Lion hissed as he tried turning the doorknob.

Lynx holstered his gun, "Allow me."

He was grateful that his uncle had taught him little tricks like this, even though it was all for a cause that Lynx didn't agree with. His uncle had taught him a few things, such as keeping a small lock-picking kit with him at all times. He had heeded his uncle's advice.

 _Click._

"It's unlocked," Lynx muttered, stowing away the little pin that he had seemingly produced out of thin air. He backed up, his gun back in his hands.

Lion nodded, turning the knob again. He was the first one in the house. His boots, no matter how hard he tried, made loud noises against the wooden floor. It seemed that Tiger and Panther were having the same problem, but Lynx, his spy instincts kicking in, remained quiet.

The building was made of a single hallway, rooms spaced out evenly on either side of them. At the end of the hallway was a kitchen-like area without a door.

" _Here."_

Panther's words were hardly audible as he gestured towards a flight of stairs. Lion gave a nod of approval, turning to Lynx and Tiger, "Make sure the first floor is clear. We don't want any surprise ambushes."

Lynx nodded, immediately turning to the rooms that lined the hallway, gesturing silently with his hands.

The first few rooms were empty. They each had various uses. One was plainly a cell. Another had a tilted table, used for waterboarding. Another contained more torture devices. Lynx backed out of those rooms quickly, shutting the door before Tiger could get a glimpse of the inside.

"It's clear," Tiger muttered quietly to Lynx once he had finished checking the other rooms.

Lynx nodded. They both took the stairs quickly, their – Tiger's – heavy boots loudly pounding on the steps. Lynx winced, his own tread softer.

He spotted Lion in the dimly lit hallway, dragging what had to be Ben after him, Panther awkwardly holding the lower half of the body.

"He's unconscious," Lion whispered, "Let's go."

They were halfway down the stairs when their luck finally ran out.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" A distinct male voice snarled above them.

Lynx looked up to see the figure of a burly man at the top of the stairs. His eyes gleamed in the dim light. Though it was dark, Lynx could plainly see that the man didn't look happy with their intrusion.

" _Go!"_ Lynx snapped at J-Unit, who were all behind him. He lifted his gun, pointing it directly at the man's chest, "Don't move. Don't talk."

The man was clearly about to call out someone's name, but he thought better of it, eyeing the gun in Lynx's hand.

"Raise your arms," Lynx said lowly, listening to the sound of the front door opening. J-Unit had made it out, "and walk back to that wall. Turn around and face it."

The man listened. Lynx could tell the man was terrified. He clearly valued his own life over his prisoner.

Lynx swiftly pressed a pressure point in the man's neck, pulling a disgusted face at the sweat that seemed to drip out of the man's skin. The man went down, his eyes rolling upwards into the back of his head.

Lynx left quickly, not wanting to be left behind. J-Unit had paused by the edge of the premises, still hefting the injured, unconscious spy between the three.

"What are you waiting for?"Lynx hissed angrily, " _Go!"_

As if the men in the building behind him were waiting for his cue, someone called out, " _Wallace!"_

Lynx inwardly snorted out the name. It was a ridiculous name, but it fit the quivering, sweaty man.

"What did you do to him?" Panther's voice was full of his usual joking tone.

Lynx didn't respond.

Behind them, the door was flung open and angry voices echoed around the clearing.

"They took the spy!"

"We have to get him back," a male voice, full of malice, growled, "the Boss will be angry."

"Just shoot into the damn forest," another man called, "they couldn't have gotten far."

Lynx's eyes widened as a spray of bullets hit a nearby tree. The four soldiers rushed forward, back towards the awaiting helicopter.

It was a three hour hike to the building, but now lugging an extra weight, it took them nearly three hours to cover half that distance. Thoroughly exhausted, the members of J-Unit agreed to sit down for a break.

"Thank God," Panther moaned, now his playful self again once the danger had passed, "I can't wait to get back."

"Shut up, Pan," Lion said sharply, "he's waking up."

Lynx glanced down at the spy. The skies were now starting to show a bit of light, and he could see the extent of Ben's injuries.

It didn't look like he had suffered too much, but Lynx knew that appearances weren't everything. He had a lot of bruising on his face and probably the rest of his body.

Lynx could easily tell then Ben was beginning to panic. He began breathing faster, writhing awkwardly to get away from Lion, who was the nearest soldier.

"It's okay," Lion soothed, hanging back so that the spy wouldn't feel pressured, "We're SAS. We were sent here to rescue you."

Ben looked around wildly, shooting up to his feet with a wince.

"We're J-Unit," Lion said with the same calming voice, "I'm Lion, remember? And that's Tiger, the unit medic. We've met before."

Ben eyes lit up with recognition, but still, he didn't relax the weak defensive position he was in, "Prove it."

His voice made Lynx wince. It was weak and rough. He could tell that Ben hadn't had enough water in the past twenty-four hours.

The motion caught the spy's attention. Lynx glared back, hoping that the man wouldn't recognize him.

" _Alex?"_ Ben's posture relaxed, shock evident in his hoarse voice, "Fuck, I'm dead, aren't I?"

"That's Lynx," Lion told the spy calmly, "our sharpshooter.'

Ben ignored the man, walking closer hesitantly, "Alex?"

"My name is Lynx," Lynx found himself repeating the words he had told Mrs. Jones just a couple weeks ago, "I don't know who Alex is, and I assure you that my name is _not_ Alex."

Ben crept closer, his eyes hard. "You're a fucking liar," he was directly in front of Lynx now, an accusing finger pointed at Lynx's chest, "You're name is Alex Rider. You're an MI6 agent – just like me."

" _Fox!"_

Ben jumped back, startled at the loud voice. Lion moved past Tiger, and wedged himself between the two.

"We're going to the helicopter," he said quietly, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop accusing my sharpshooter of your ridiculous ideas."

Out of the corner of Lynx's eye, he saw Tiger and Panther exchange quick glances.

There was a long, tension filled moment before Ben moved backwards, "Of course," he said, sounding defeated, "let's go."

Lion nodded, striding off to where he had left his small handheld GPS.

"Water," Lynx handed the spy his own bottle. He moved away, not looking back, though he could feel Ben's gaze searing into his back.

"Alex Rider?" Panther questioned, falling into step next to Lynx, "I thought he was just a myth to try to make us work harder or something."

Lynx shrugged, as Tiger joined them on the other side of Panther.

"Nah," Tiger interjected, "he's real. Came to Brecon Beacons three years ago, codename 'Cub'."

Panther leaned in eagerly, "Have you met him?"

Lynx nearly froze, but he remembered that a highly intelligent spy was tailing them, probably listening to every word they were saying. He forced his expression to look a little confused and interested, which wasn't difficult.

Tiger shook his head, "No."

"Then how do you know he's real?" Panther pushed.

"I talked to K-Unit," Tiger shrugged, "In fact, _you_ can talk to them. They're due back from Iraq next week."

This piece of information left Lynx's stomach churning. He hoped that J-Unit wouldn't run into K-Unit any time soon. Even so, he was unsure if they would recognize him. He'd grown in the past three years, outgrowing the baby-face he'd had.

"Who's Alex Rider?"Lynx asked casually, recalling that as a recruit, he was never mentioned.

Panther's gaze lit up, "I forgot! No one told you, right? Alex Rider is rumored to..."

Lynx and Tiger both bit back a sigh.

* * *

 **A/N: I've rewritten this three times, and I'm still not satisfied. BUT, I felt bad about not updating for a while, so I wanted to post this. Please tell me if you want me to rewrite this. Honestly, I'm contemplating on not posting... UGH I'M SO FRUSTRATED. Hem... okay...**

 **R** **eview Responses:**

 **ripper34:** As always, thank you!

 **Guest (No. 1):** Ergh, I hate typos. I never notice them until after I've posted the chapter! I do have a beta for my other story "Operation Zeta", but I find beta-ing a little restricting (not that I'm not grateful for my beta, lol). I like to just post irregularly and quickly… But maybe I should… meh.

I love Ben too, which is why I included him! Sadly, it looks like Alex harbors a grudge…

 **Sumayyah1 ( _Guest_ ): **Thank you! I'm glad you like it! And the update is… now? Haha

 **Ikspires:** Welcome to the story! I know you mentioned that in your last review. I had to say something about that… Anyway, thank you! Apparently, I write better when I'm extremely tired than when I'm wide awake. It might have something to do with my short attention span…

 **Booklover398 ( _Guest):_** Yayay! I'm so happy that you love this story! I love you for loving this! Haha, I hope you enjoyed this update :)

 **TimeyWimeyBadWolf:** I do believe I've mentioned liking your pen name… but I'll say it again! I like your pen name! Haha, thank you for your review, and I'm glad you love it!

 **Batfan3:** Let me guess… Batman fan? I love Batman! Thank _you_ for your review. I've struggled to try to keep Alex realistic, broken, but still resilient!

 **Guest (No. 2):** I didn't specify the exact ages of J-Unit, but Lion is in his mid to late twenties, Tiger is in his thirties, and Panther is in his early to mid twenties. They don't know how old Lynx is, but they assume that he is younger than them by his appearance. Thanks for your review and question!

 **Phoenix313:** AHH, thank you! It means so much to me to hear you say that! I've read a lot of Alex Rider fanfiction too, and there are a lot of good works out there. It makes me grin to think that you like this more than those (I hope I don't sound conceited, lol). Thank you for your review :)

 **Guest (No. 3):** Hopefully this chapter gives you your answers! I hope I didn't disappoint with Ben/Fox's spectacular(-ish) entrance xD

 **MLM24:** Thanks for your review! I hope this chapter was satisfactory!

 **AR Miller:** Thank you! I will definitely keep writing!

 **SidewaysSkyscrapers:** Thank _you_ for your review! Yeah, I completely agree, but I like to think that the fandom has started to become more active nowadays. Hopefully, more ongoing stories will appear!

 **Guest (No. 4):** Thank you so much! I'm glad you love it! And, haha, no problem. Here's another update :P

Oookay! Don't forget to leave a review on the way out, including whether you want me to rewrite this or not! Thank y'all for your favoriting, following, and reviews!

-Alice x (By the way, I forgot to ask: is "Trevor Lee" a strange name? I tend to give weird names to characters in stories without realizing it…)


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Alex Rider.

 **Dedication:** To _Phoenix313_ and _Hunter of Yassen Gregorovich._

To _Phoenix313:_ Thank you for your review! Haha, I agree with the mission thing. That was one of the reasons why I didn't like the last chapter that much. It felt too easy… But at least Alex finally got a break, right? Haha! And don't worry! I won't stop!

To _Hunter of Yassen Gregorovich:_ Haha, thank you for your _two_ reviews! This fic has finally been updated!

 **Questions:** Wow, I feel like I'm making my A/Ns wayyy too long. But, a lot of you have questions in your reviews, and I want to answer all of them! Well, for the ones that I can answer. Hope y'all don't mind… Scroll past all of this if you do, lol.

To _Guest_ who was confused about Ben being carried/not carried: Ben was carried halfway to the helicopter, but when J-Unit took a break (I imagine it's difficult to lug around a body, lol), Ben woke up and was able to make his way back.

To _Hockeygirl003 (guest)_ who asked if Alex should be more emotional, seeing as Ben was held captive: I think part of the reason why I didn't like the last chapter was because I didn't quite capture Alex's inner turmoil. On one hand, he hates how Ben ruthlessly detonated a bomb, killing hundreds, and on the other hand, he's been through a lot with Ben (which basically means he trusts him a lot). Haha, so yeah, I believe he should have been more emotional, just on the inside!

* * *

AWOL 09

Lynx sighed to himself as he waited with the rest of J-Unit outside of Mrs. Jones' office door. They were currently in the Royal and General Bank, waiting to be debriefed.

Ben had been taken to St. Dominic's Hospital, where he would probably remain for the next week. J-Unit, however, were to be debriefed at MI6 headquarters.

Lynx was the last one to be debriefed, and he knew why. Mrs. Jones was probably going to saddle him into doing more missions. When he refused, she'd blackmail him, just like the old head, Blunt, did.

The door to Mrs. Jones office opened, and Panther stalked out, looking positively annoyed. His face brightened up once he saw Lynx.

"Don't let her get under your skin too much," he whispered loudly, "And don't let her smell get to you either."

Lynx grinned weakly, noting the truth in his words. Mrs. Jones' peppermint smell really did make his head hurt.

Lynx pushed the door open not bothering with pleasantries.

"What do you want from me this time?" he asked bluntly. If Mrs. Jones really had been Blunt's deputy director, she would be a master manipulator herself.

Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrows, "Close the door behind you, Alex."

Lynx gritted his teeth and slammed the door shut. He didn't proceed further in the room.

"Sit," Mrs. Jones nodded at the chairs in front of her desk.

"I'd prefer to stand," Lynx said coolly, crossing his arms.

Mrs. Jones inclined her head slowly, "I've heard enough about your rescue mission from your unit members. Instead, we'll talk about your options."

"Options?" Lynx gritted his teeth.

Mrs. Jones moved the peppermint in her mouth from one side to another, "Yes, options. You've gone AWOL for six months. That, alone, is enough to charge you with treason."

"I don't care if you send me to jail," Lynx spat, "At least I'd get away from you _murderers!"_

Mrs. Jones didn't seemed ruffled at all, "I can also arrest the rest of your unit in suspicion of aiding you."

Lynx didn't say anything.

"The second option is for you to come back to MI6 as a full time agent again. And the third option is for you to stay at Brecon Beacons," there was a catch, "You will be on call as an active agent and as an active soldier."

Lynx knew he wanted to choose the last option, but it seemed like there was more to it. Mrs. Jones took the liberty of answering his unasked question.

"If you choose the third choice, you must lie to all your friends. No one can know about Alex Rider and his life at MI6. They won't be kind to you if they find out," she probably knew how painful it was to think about that.

On one hand, choosing option three would allow him to keep his new family. On the other hand, choosing option three would allow MI6 to use J-Unit as blackmail.

Lynx knew she had won before she had even finished speaking. He couldn't go back full time. He just… couldn't.

"Three," he said lowly, accepting his defeat.

Mrs. Jones nodded, a glimmer of triumph briefly flashing onto her face, "Very well. As you are an active agent, I have a mission for you..."

A*W*O*L

Panther was worried. No one could really see through the cheerful front he put on, but inwardly, he really did worry.

He worried about whether his next meal had cyanide in it (he always sniffed for bitter almonds just in case). He worried if he could survive his language classes. He worried for his unit. And for the past week, he worried for Lynx.

Lynx was a strange bugger. Panther usually didn't care if his friends were strange like him, but this was a different kind of strangeness.

Panther had seen the younger man's scars. He had pretended not to see them, simply because _Panther_ couldn't handle it. Not Lynx.

They were clearly torture marks.

It hadn't been long ago that Panther had lost a comrade. Only half a year ago that J-Unit had been whole and complete. A happy family that had each others' back.

Lynx was a whole lot different from Panther's Ducky. Lynx was the silent, brooding type that opened up with time. Duck was like Panther's twin brother: happy, excitable, and filled with secrets. Panther hadn't even known half of them until he died.

Panther sighed, turning on his side. He could hear Tiger's panting breaths as he fought of one of his nightmares. He could see Lion, soundless as ever, tightly balling his fists as he slept. And the silence from Lynx's cot.

Tiger had been the only other one to be captured in J-Unit. Him and Duck. They were stuck in that hell-hole for a month, tortured relentlessly for information they didn't know.

Lion had been extremely close with Duck – they all had – but he took Duck's death the hardest. It was the first man that Lion had lost under his command. It was no wonder the unit leader hated Lynx so much.

Where was Lynx anyway? Panther often found himself asking that. After they had done the mission, Lynx had simply disappeared. J-Unit had waited for twelve hours – until the afternoon for Lynx, but he was no where to be found. All they'd seen were bankers rushing around. There was even a teenager tailing his mother! Panther didn't know MI6 let kids into the building.

"Bloody hell..." Tiger jerked awake with a groan, sitting up very suddenly.

Lion was awake even before Panther fully acknowledged the noise, "You okay, Tiger?"

Panther saw Tiger's figure nod in the dim morning light, "I'm fine. Don't think I'm going back to sleep though."

"Neither am I," Panther spoke up, yawning, "I've been up for a while."

Lion shrugged, "I won't sleep if you two aren't."

Silence in the hut.

"Breakfast?" Panther questioned, "Are the cooks up yet?"

"Nah," Tiger returned to his original position, "The sun hasn't risen yet."

Panther grinned, "Hey, we can watch the sunrise together! It's so _roooomantic!"_

Lion groaned and threw a boot at him, which Panther thankfully dodged, "Shuddup, Pan."

Panther opened his mouth, about to retort cleverly when the door was opened rather roughly.

He couldn't see the face of whoever stood in the doorway, but Panther tried to guess anyway, "Lynx?"

"No, you fucking moron," Panther didn't have to see the man to know he was glaring at him, "Wolf – K-unit. We just managed to fall asleep when you fucking idiots decide to wake us up."

Panther frowned at the man, "You sure do curse a lot, Mr. Wolf."

Something soft hit his chest, and Panther realized it was a smelly old sock.

" _Ew!"_ Panther jumped up, "What the heck, Lion?"

"Sorry, Wolf," Lion told the glowering man, "Panther's easily excitable. We'll gag him."

Panther sent his own childish glower.

"Thanks," Wolf grunted, closing the door. The unit listened to his footsteps retreat.

"That was Fox's old unit leader," Tiger said softly, "Didn't you say you wanted to ask him about Cub?"

Panther brightened, "Oh yeah! I'll ask him at breakfast!"

"Which is in half an hour," Lion commented, checking his watch, "Come on. Let's play some poker while we wait."

Panther grinned.

Half an hour later, Panther had won exactly twenty pounds in cash, a few pieces of sweets (a contraband item), and some girl's phone number that he knew he'd never use.

"Cheater," Lion accused with a scowl, though it was playful.

"Innocent until proven guilty!" Panther sang as Tiger laughed at the two.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Panther heard a loud crunching noise outside of their door, "What happened to being quiet, you little fuc-"

"Calm down, Wolf," someone soothed, sounding just like Panther's mother, "I'm sure they didn't mean to-"

The door opened, and four soldiers stood, squished, in the doorway. The first man, Wolf, was again, scowling. Panther wondered if his face was naturally stuck like that. The second man was a redhead. Panther had heard enough stories to know that this was Snake, the Scottish medic. Behind them, peering out, was a sandy haired man. He was grinning mischievously, and Panther knew he was going to be fast friends with the one and only Eagle. The last man looked just as scary as Wolf. He wore a heavy scowl that looked exactly like Wolf's.

"Sorry about them," Tiger gestured at Panther, who was grinning evilly at Lion over his cards, "They can get out of hand. Oi!"

Panther instantly tossed his cards down and stood, "Wolf!"

The man suddenly looked anxious, "Oh no… He sounds like Eagle."

The rest of K-Unit's features morphed to something close to dread. The only exception was Eagle, who grinned at Panther. Panther grinned back.

"Breakfast?" Tiger glanced at Lion, who nodded and stood, placing his own cards face down.

It was strange walking to breakfast with another unit, especially because Panther hadn't met K-Unit in the two years he was there.

True to his thoughts, Panther connected easily with Eagle. They sustained a long, chattering conversation about modes of transportation as they made their way to the dining hall.

"Hello cooks!" Panther greeted cheerfully, "What do you have for us today? Have you laced it with cyanide?"

"No," one of the cooks muttered, glaring at Panther, "But I should next time."

"Oh, don't be like that," Panther stuck his tongue out, "I bet you steal these eggs from poor, helpless kittens!"

"Kittens don't lay eggs," Eagle hissed helpfully from his side, " _I_ think that these aren't really eggs at all."

The pair cast a look at the unnaturally yellow eggs on their plates. Panther cocked his head, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Eagle nodded solemnly, "I am, dear Panther."

"Oh here he goes again," Tiger sighed to Lion, who simply hid a grin.

"Panther," Lion called as he walked away, "Didn't you say you wanted to ask Wolf a few questions?"

Panther turned, noting the sigh of relief that the cook gave, "Oh yeah!" He turned back to the cooks, giving them an evil eye, "I'm coming back."

Both he and Eagle turned away, wearing what Panther thought were identical expressions.

"What do you want to know?" Wolf asked impatiently, stabbing his fork into his food.

Panther sat across from the scary man, "Cub."

Wolf raised an eyebrow as the rest of K and J-Units took a seat, "What about him?"

"Is he real?" Panther leaned forward eagerly, "Is Alex Rider real?"

Wolf exchanged looks with Snake, "Yeah. He trained with us for a week or so."

"So are all of the rumors true?" Panther swiveled around to look at Wolf, Snake, and Eagle. The last man, Armadillo, hadn't been in their unit back then. He looked slightly lost.

Wolf shrugged, "Dunno."

Panther's mouth dropped open.

"If you work long enough in this business," Wolf grunted, obviously uncomfortable with the disappointment Panther showed, "You'll meet him on a mission."

Panther perked up, "Really? When do you think I can meet him?"

"Maybe you already have," Eagle said very seriously from Panther's side. He cracked up.

Panther pouted.

Lion rolled his eyes and struck up another conversation. Panther turned around to give the cooks another glare, when he noticed someone familiar heading towards them, plate in hand.

" _Lynx?"_

" _Cub?"_

* * *

 **A/N: AHHHHH WE'VE REACHED 100+ REVIEWS! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'M SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER WAS SO LATE!**

 **F** **ACT: Originally, Tiger was supposed to be unit leader, Panther was the silent and serious one, and Lion was the goofy member of J-Unit.**

 **Alright, I'm typing this up in the car. I totally feel sick, so right after I write this, I'm going to stop. As always, don't forget to review! It's much appreciated!**

 **-** **Alice (for spoilers, sneak peeks, and more, follow me on twitter at dalekchung)**


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider.**

 **Dedication:** To all of you guys! Because I wouldn't have been able to continue on without your supportive reviews and helpful criticism. Haha, but a shout out to one of the guests who made me laugh with his/her seemingly psychotic review – not that there's anything wrong with psychotic reviews ;D

 **Question(s):**

To _TheAlmightyMuffin,_ who was confused why MI6 couldn't find Alex/that confusing mess: Haha, I guess I wasn't too clear in the story. I never explicitly stated it, but Alex went off MI6's radar for six months. That's how long SAS selection is. MI6 found Alex again when he formally became an SAS soldier.

* * *

AWOL 10

Lynx blinked in surprise, staring at the two units. He awkwardly put down his plate on the table, deciding to play stupid, "Uh… hi? Who's Cub?"

Lion, Tiger, and Panther all stared at each other with undisguised confusion. Next to them, Wolf scrutinized Lynx with a frown that he knew all too well.

"He's Alex Rider!" Panther informed Lynx seriously, "I told you the rumors, didn't I?"

"Sure," Lynx drawled the word. He swiveled his gaze to K-Unit. They were all staring at him, studying him, "Who are you guys?"

Wolf was the first to snap out of it. In an irritated tone, he said, "That's not Cub. Cub has blonde hair."

Eagle acquiesced, returning to his food, "Yeah. Can't even remember what he looked like. Just that he was young."

Snake said nothing. He swept another searching look at Lynx before nodding.

"That's Wolf, Eagle, Snake, and Armadillo," Panther said helpfully, scooting over to make more room for Lynx to sit.

"Hi," he waved awkwardly. He must have looked quite the sight. Lynx had spent two nights at the hospital, nursing a small concussion and various bruises. Most of the bruises were on his face, creating a whole pallet of colors. Red, black, blue – even slight tinges of yellow and green.

Lynx chanced a look at Lion and Tiger, who both looked equally as stoic. Lion was the first to break the silence.

"Where the hell were you?" he snarled, glaring at Lynx with a viciousness that he hadn't seen since he'd first passed selection.

Lynx had an excuse prepared, "MI6 needed a sniper and thought that I was best for the job."

"And how did a _sniper,"_ Lion stressed the word, "get like _that?"_ He gestured at Lynx's obvious wounds.

Lynx ran a hand over the bruise on his cheek, "Well, obviously, someone found me and tried to kill me," he replied, in an irritated tone.

Tiger gave Lion a warning nudge before speaking to Lynx, "Welcome back. We missed you."

"Thanks," Lynx sent a grateful smile to him before digging into his food.

"Tell us _all_ about your mission!" Panther demanded, in his usual exuberant voice. He would never tell this to Panther, but Lynx really had missed him. "Did you work with a spy? Who did you have to..."

Lynx gave a playful glare and leaned in, internally grinning as Panther eagerly turned an ear to him. The man was just too easy to play with.

" _Classified,"_ Lynx hissed into his ear.

Panther jumped away, looking horrified. He turned to Lion, "He's turned! What did they do to him?"

The rest of the unit laughed. Lynx smirked at his plate, relieved to have turned the attention off of his mission.

A*W*O*L

Lynx found it hard to fit in with the unit in the following week. Sure, he had only been gone for one week, but it felt longer. Maybe it was the fact that part of him had died on that mission, just like in all those missions before it. Soon, the rest of him would die too, and all that would be left would be a soulless shell, doing MI6's bidding.

He couldn't let that happen.

Lynx turned on his side, peering around his hut. It had become a common occurrence ever since he came back. He didn't want to sleep anymore. Nightmares plagued him, and there was the ever pressing matter that someone would attack him in his sleep.

He shut his eyes tightly, letting his mind wander once more. He wanted to fall into a dreamless sleep, but as usual, Lynx's thoughts wandered to his missions and to MI6.

 _Thump!_

Lynx's thoughts were broken when he heard a small noise outside the hut. His senses were instantly on alert.

" _Shut the fuck up!"_ someone hissed quietly on the other side of the door. Lynx didn't recognize the voice.

" _It's not my fault,"_ another voice whispered back, " _Someone left their boot over here."_

 _"_ _Hurry up and pick the lock, idiots,"_ a third voice commanded.

Lynx kept his eyes closed, listening as the doorknob turned and the door opened a crack.

" _Why do we have to be the ones to abduct them?"_ the second man questioned under his breath.

The first man spoke again, " _because the Sergeant ordered us to. Now, shut up!"_

Lynx relaxed, recognizing that this was probably just a routine RTI – resistance to interrogation.

" _Give me the towel,"_ one man snapped, entering the hut, " _make sure they're properly knocked out."_

Lynx tensed slightly as slow footsteps approached his bedside.

" _Sorry, mate,"_ the muttered lowly before pressing a rag to Lynx's mouth and nose.

Lynx's eyes flew open, his natural instincts taking over his body. Whatever was on the towel, he didn't want to breathe it in.

Strong arms pinned him down, and he found himself running out of air. He needed to breathe – he needed oxygen.

"Oh for fuck's sake, just breathe it!" the man didn't bother to lower his voice anymore.

Lynx struggled for a few more slow seconds before more hands forced his flailing limbs down. His instincts to live eventually won, and he was forced to take a breath.

He wasn't very sure what it smelled like, but the scent reminded him of clean, white hospitals. He _hated_ hospitals.

"Come on… keep breathing," the voice soothed.

Lynx breathed in again. He found himself dizzily spinning away into a pit of darkness.

When Lynx awoke, he wasn't sure where he was, only that time had passed. The moon had shifted positions and the sky had only slightly lightened, signaling that it was late morning or afternoon.

He looked around his surroundings. He was in some sort of barn, complete with the musty scent. The ground was hard cement, bit of hay strewn on the ground. There was a single door, obviously locked.

In a heap beside Lynx, the rest of of J-Unit lay, still out cold. The more Lynx studied the three, the more he thought that it was the most relaxed the three had been. Satisfied, he turned to inspect the barn again.

There was a small tray in front of the padlocked door. Moving closer, Lynx found that it was four rations and four water bottles. He snorted to himself. At least he knew the Regiment still cared.

"Ugh," Lynx turned quickly at the sound, but relaxed as he saw Panther clawing his way out from the pile, "I hate RTI."

"You can say that again," Lynx acknowledged, turning back to inspect the barn.

"I hate RTI," Panther repeated, struggling to stand, "Longest twenty-four hours."

"What do they do exactly?" Lynx questioned. He, of course, had experienced many different versions of it.

In Lynx's peripheral vision, Panther shrugged, "Anything that resembles real torture. The Green Jackets aren't too picky."

Lynx nodded, circling back to sit beside Panther and the two unconscious men.

"I wouldn't bother waiting for them," even in the darkness, Lynx could see Panther's gleaming teeth, "Last time, Tiger broke someone's nose, and Lion dislocated someone's arm. They're more careful now – larger dosages and all."

"Well, that's just great," Lynx grumbled, noting the camera monitoring them on the wall, "they get to stay unconscious longer."

Panther shrugged, and they sat in silence, waiting for the Green Jackets to make their appearance. It didn't take long.

Within the next couple minutes, Lynx picked up the sound of heavy combat boots. He exchanged looks with Panther.

There wasn't much Lynx could do except stare at the door, listening to the Green Jackets muttering amongst themselves before unlocking the door.

"Good mornin'!" Panther greeted cheerfully as the first Green Jacket made his way in, stomping loudly. Honestly, how did they keep up with that?

"Shh, Pan!" Lynx flashed a sly grin at his friend, as the soldiers simultaneously frowned in unison, "I think they woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"It would explain the hair," Panther agreed. The Green Jackets' frowns deepened. It seemed like they didn't like the fact that they had next to no hair.

"And the dried drool," Lynx added, "Not their fault, though."

"Enough!" the first man stalked forward. He was the classic unit leader, resembling Wolf. He turned and nodded to the other soldiers, "Bags?"

Two of the Green Jackets approached and jammed the cloth over Lynx and Panther's head.

"Up," someone forced Lynx up onto his feet before prodding him forward.

"Ow!" Panther yelped from beside Lynx, "Gosh, you people are horrible at guiding."

Lynx was shoved forward. He couldn't tell where he was going, though it was fairly obvious that J-Unit was being taken to a location where they could be tortured in peace. He didn't really like going in blind, but it was only a practice run. It wasn't the real thing.

Behind him (or in front of him, Lynx couldn't tell), the others had fallen silent. It was quite eerie, he decided. He didn't like it. He stayed quiet nevertheless, imagining the scolding that Tiger and Lion would give him afterwards.

He was roughly shoved sideways. He stumbled and fell to the ground with a sharp ' _oomph!'._ The bag over his head was ripped off of his head.

Lynx blinked blearily up at his captor, who was giving him the ugliest sneer he'd ever seen. He looked around, searching for his teammates, but they were nowhere to be seen. That explained the lack of noise, didn't it?

"Now," the Green Jacket looked smug as he talked, "I suppose you know the rules. Talk when I ask, and I'll stop torturing you."

Lynx glared back at the man, giving him a sneer of his own.

"What is your name?" The Green Jacket snarled, getting up close and personal with Lynx. He gripped Lynx's shirt in a tight fist, glaring at the soldier.

Lynx blinked owlishly at the soldier for a moment before asking innocently, "was your mother a hippopotamus or an alligator? I can't quite decide. You look a bit like both."

The Green Jacket snarled angrily, spit frothing at his lips.

"Just kidding, mate. You look kind of like a rabid squirrel. Can I help you?" Lynx smirked at the soldier's expression.

He wasn't smirking a moment later when the Green Jacket promptly punched him in the face.

"I talked!" Lynx protested, cradling his cheek, "You said that after you asked a question, I should talk!"

"Answer the fucking question," the soldier snarled at him, "I don't want your irrelevant shit. What is you name?"

They went on like this for what seemed like hours. It seemed to Lynx that the Green Jacket never tired of inventing new ways to torture him. It wouldn't leave Lynx incapacitated, but he was sure it was going to hurt like hell for another week or so.

Lynx retaliated with short, witty remarks that seemed to frustrate the soldier to no end. It was amusing for him, but the amusement didn't last long as the soldier whacked him with something or shouted murder in his face.

It seemed like hours before the Green Jacket finally hauled Lynx upright. He was bloody and bruised, but somehow gathered enough energy to spit into the Green Jacket's face. It didn't go unpunished, and a moment later, Lynx was the proud owner of a newly broken nose.

"Get up," the Green Jacket sounded resigned as he shoved the bag over Lynx's head once more.

"Only for you, darling," Lynx sniped back. He was shoved harshly towards wherever he was being lead. It only took a couple minutes for them to reach their destination. It was quite easy to hear Panther's shouts of 'FREE THE OPPRESSED!'

As soon as the door opened, Lynx was shoved inside, and the door slammed shut behind him. He could hear the lock being put back on the door.

"Lynx!"

Someone – or someones – rushed over to him, untangling him from the bag on his head.

"Ugh, you look horrid," it was Panther, who gave him a grin. It was slightly bloodied, but somehow, Lynx didn't care. He was just glad to finally get away from the Green Jacket. He would never admit this, but the man's punches _hurt._

Lynx poked his tongue out, tasting the metallic tang of blood, "Could say the same about you, mate."

He was helped up by an oddly stoic Tiger and a furious Lion. Lion didn't seem angry at Lynx in particular, but it was hard to think otherwise when the look was directed at him.

"They kept you a whole half an hour longer than the rest of us!" Lion raged, pacing around Lynx, examining the extent of his injuries, "What did you say to them? Something stupid, huh? Stupid kid. You should have just shut your mouth!"

Lynx rolled his eyes, escaping Lion's glare as he shuffled to the side, "Do you think we can get out of here? There must be something that we can use."

He paced over to the door, which was delightfully unguarded. The Green Jackets were probably hanging around somewhere close. Lynx couldn't risk talking too loudly.

The door was loose, and Lynx could see a gap, just big enough for his hands, that revealed the outside air. It was nearly dark, the perfect time to get out of that barn.

Whoever had decided to use this place as the RTI headquarters had obviously not factored in the fact that not every soldier's hands weren't the same size. Lynx, being younger and smaller than most soldiers, could, with some difficulty, reach the padlock on the other side. All he needed was a pin or something…

He glanced around, making a beeline for a small stack of junk: mostly hay. The others looked curiously at him.

"What are you doing?" Lion had stopped his little rant to turn his attention back on Lynx.

The soldier shrugged, moving on to the next pile of junk, "Finding a needle in a haystack," he told Lion, looking up to give the three a mischievous grin, "Go on. Help me."

They tried to pry Lynx for more details, but he was too paranoid to reveal his plan. They could hear him, Lynx told them lowly as they searched, it was best not to say anything until afterward.

"How's this?" Tiger questioned after a half an hour of fruitless search. He held up a piece of sharp hay.

Lynx took it from him, shrugging, "No harm in trying."

He knew it wasn't going to work. The hay was too soft to unlock it. As he worked, he was proven right. A moment later, the four were at it again.

"What's this?" Panther was holding up a blunt piece of nail, "This won't work, will it?"

Lynx didn't dignify it with an answer.

It was completely dark now, and Lynx couldn't see anything. The others had given up just moments before, but he was still feeling around, pressing his fingers on the ground and testing everything he could.

He was getting frustrated, and the rest of J-Unit seemed to be able to tell.

"Hey, mate, come and take a break," Panther called over to him, "Let Tiger check on your nose."

Lynx's nose was doing just fine. The blood had finally stopped flowing. However, Lynx was irritable. His nose throbbed painfully, but it wasn't doing anything besides distracting him.

"Just a moment," Lynx spotting a small crack in the barn walls. A surge of hope went through him as he noted the splintering wood.

It took a few tries and a few splinters to get the desired length of wood, but fifteen minutes later, Lynx had himself his very own lock-picking device.

Lynx had done this a thousand times. It had started with his uncle and had continued well into his years as a spy. He made a face at this thought and pushed it out of his mind. He was a _soldier_ now. He was _Trevor_ now, not Alex or Cub or whatever the hell he had been.

He heard the others stand, most likely trying to peer curiously at what he was doing. Lynx was at the door, his smaller hands fitting through the crack between the door and the doorframe. He reached for the padlock, inserting the piece of wood into the part where the key was meant to go. He fumbled with it for a few moments before he finally gave a small jiggle and the lock unlocked.

Lynx carefully removed the padlock and withdrew, cautiously opening the door.

"Brilliant!" Panther hissed from behind him. In the faint moonlight, Lynx could see the grin on his face. Even Lion looked on appreciatively, and Tiger gave him a grunt of approval.

Lynx grinned back at the three, "I dunno about you, but I certainly want some proper sleep."

The rest of J-Unit agreed, and within the next ten minutes, Lynx was back in his bed, snuggling deep within the folds of his blankets.

* * *

 _Ha... how was that K/J-Unit reaction? It sucked, yeah, but nothing was really working for me... so HAHA in your face! Lol, just kidding... (ish). I'm so mean..._

 _So... Hi? I'm kind of late, I know. You guys must hate me. SORRY! But not really. But I am. Haha, not sure what I'm saying. I'm back doing odd bits of writing at 1 AM. Anyway, this is my holiday gift to you! I'm not sure if you guys get offended if some of ya don't celebrate Christmas. But MERRY CHRISTMAS! So, hope you liked. Leave a review. Come by my house for some cookies. I'll be doing homework, practice SATs, ect. You know, the regular. On Christmas Day. Toodles!_

 **FACT: J-Unit was purposefully all named after the big cats. I decided on the "big cats" after a long debate with myself on why I shouldn't name them after fish/sea-life. (I wanted to be able to call them a "mini school of fish", but...)**

 _-Alice (follow me on Twitter at dalekchung for bits of miscellaneous junk)_


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER.**

 **Dedication:** To you all, who didn't give up on my _very_ slow update. For those who liked how K-Unit didn't recognize Alex, and for those who are frustrated that K-Unit didn't recognize him. Haha, I was going to pick someone specifically, and then I realized that it's been so long that I don't remember anything you guys wrote in your reviews. So I'm currently reading your reviews from chapter 10. Thank you _Whisperponyx, Seth 8627,_ _natashabromanoff, An Angel Can Fly, Atticot, Peek-a-bloody-boo, Chasing Insanity, Arianna Archer, LuminousMoonRay, dorfchaosgenie_ _,_ and _Stenners._ Welcome to any new readers, and let's get on with the story!

* * *

AWOL 11

Lynx woke at the sound of the door of the cabin slamming open. He was on his feet instantly, his guard raised in his half-asleep mode. His nose gave a sudden throb, and he was reminded that his nose was still very broken. He would have to get that fixed soon.

He was aware that the other members of J-Unit had also jumped out of their cots, on high alert, though Lynx was sure they had gotten out slower than they usually did, expressions of obvious pain on their faces. They looked horrible. Each man was covered in dust and dried blood, their hair sticking out in every direction. Lynx couldn't even bring himself to feel amused when he caught sight of dried drool on Panther's face.

He wasn't surprised to see the Sergeant standing in the door frame, his posture stiff and his expression angry. The little bit of light that filtered through made Lynx's eyes hurt and his head to start throbbing along with the rhythm of his nose.

J-Unit obediently scrambled into a ragged formation, snapping into position. Lynx thought that they probably looked pitiful. He hadn't even attempted to clean off before diving onto his bed. He could feel dried blood and crusted sweat on his face.

The Sergeant advanced, looking like a predator about to pounce on its prey. His eyes were narrowed, and his glare seemed to pierce Lynx right in the soul.

"What," the Sergeant began quietly, his voice barely reaching Lynx's ears, "THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUT OF RTI?"

The sudden shouts made Lynx tense in anticipation of an attack, but he forced his muscles to relax. There was no way the Sergeant would attack his own men, even if he was angry.

The question seemed rhetorical, but the Sergeant seemed to be waiting for an answer. He circled their pitiful formation, his eyes piercing daggers in Lynx's back.

"Well?" he demanded, stopping in front of Panther. Lynx's head gave another painful throb, and he couldn't help but to let out a conflicted expression. It was unfortunate that the Sergeant noticed this. He whirled on Lynx, his hawk-eyed glare focusing on Lynx's broken nose.

"Answer me!" the Sergeant snapped at him, his nostrils flaring out in anger.

Lynx obliged with a simple, "We found a way out and took it."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lynx could practically see the steam shooting out of the Sergeant's ears and his eyes turning red.

"RTI is training, right?" Lynx tried to soothe the man by explaining what he had bluntly stated, "Isn't escaping also part of the training?"

The Sergeant's eyes narrowed even further, like he was trying to think of a retort. He visibly struggled for a moment before relenting, turning on his heel and marching out of the cabin, snarling, _"Kitchen duty!_ For a month!"

In the nearby trees, birds squawked in obvious displeasure and took flight.

A*W*O*L

Training was hell for the next week. Lynx was positive that the Sergeant had told all of the Drill Sergeants to go hard on J-Unit, which he thought was a low move.

It was unfortunate that K-Unit had decided to join them half-way throughout the week. After they had heard the complete story of RTI, Wolf had furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation, staring at Lynx as if he was an alien specimen. Snake had gotten a thoughtful look on his face too, but said nothing to Lynx.

It gave Lynx an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but there was nothing he could do to quench it. With Wolf's odd looks, and Snake's unblinking stares, Lynx was afraid they'd figured out who he really was. Though he'd never been very close to K-Unit as a teen, he couldn't put it past them to realize what and who he actually was. Lynx didn't want to jeopardize his relationship with his newfound family, nor did he want MI6 to take away all that he had in life.

Lynx sighed heavily, turning in his bed restlessly. He clutched an MI6 issued cellphone in his hand, waiting for it to buzz softly. It hadn't been long since his last mission, but Mrs. Jones had insisted that it was of great importance. Lynx snorted at the thought, as if he'd be assigned to anything less than "of great importance".

Mrs. Jones had told him that a helicopter would come by in the stealth of the night, and that he'd be taken away to somewhere in America. The mission would take three days at the most. Lynx somewhat doubted this.

He unlocked his phone, already getting antsy. It was nearly two in the morning, and he still hadn't been alerted by MI6 about the arrival of the helicopter.

Instead of waiting restlessly, he opted to read the file once more.

 _Operation Romeo_.

Lynx scowled at the file name. Two days ago, the daughter of a top government official had been kidnapped while on a trip in America. The kidnappers – MI6 and CIA determined that they were terrorist affiliated gang – had demanded a ransom by the end of the week or else the girl would be killed.

It had taken two whole days for the CIA to locate the girl. Lynx was sure that they would have gone to rescue the girl if it hadn't been for Joseph Wood, the father of the kidnapped Juliet, who had stepped in at the last second, demanding that MI6 headed the mission, with its best taking the lead.

Lynx rolled his eyes in exasperation before glaring down at the digital file. His mission was simple enough. He'd be dropped off at a close-by airport, under the guise of a son of one of the gang members. Thankfully, Dylan Morgan's father – Tyler Morgan – was an undercover CIA agent.

All Lynx had to do was get the prisoner out of there safely, return without suspicion, and skedaddle again, without any suspicion. Easy enough.

The phone in Lynx's hand buzzed softly, alerting him that the helicopter had arrived. Quietly, he stood, his boots already strapped to his feet. He didn't have to bring anything, seeing as MI6 would provide his disguise once he was transported.

His silent footsteps didn't alert the three exhausted soldiers about him, and Lynx turned in the doorway, sorrowfully gazing at his best friends.

The mission wouldn't last for more than a week, he told himself, steeling his nerves. There was nothing to worry about.

Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in his core.

" _I'll be back,"_ he whispered to the darkness, before turning on his heel and disappearing once more into the night.

A*W*O*L

Panther felt the change in the atmosphere as soon as he woke. It seemed colder and sadder, like they'd lost a soldier to combat or when he couldn't find his hidden stash of chocolate bars.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was so different about the hut, as Panther sat up and gazed around. One bunk was conspicuously empty, and Lion was pacing around the cabin with a constipated look on his face.

Tiger sat on his cot, a frown marring his face.

Panther glanced at the clock, furrowing his eyebrows as he realized it was half an hour before breakfast. They never woke up earlier than five minutes before the start of breakfast, valuing their sleep almost as much as they valued each other.

"He's gone again," Panther broke the silence, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, embarrassed by the temporary sign of weakness. He didn't like feeling weak.

"I don't _understand!"_ Lion hissed, stopping in his tracks, his back turned to Panther and Tiger. The two exchanged looks. Lion was fuming, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

There was another moment of pure, absolute silence, where Lion was as still as stone. The moment was ruined as far off laughter drifted into the cabin through the slightly open door.

Lion stormed out of the cabin, his boots thundering down the steps and out onto the stone pavement. Panther jumped up a second later, scrambling to lace up his boots.

Ignoring the fact that he was still in his pajamas, he scrabbled out of the cabin, Tiger already ahead of him, making his way in a dignified, yet hurried, manner.

Lion was making his was to the Sergeant, who occupied the main hut. Watching as his fearless unit leader marched his way into the hut, Panther couldn't help but pale. There were few that dared to enter without knocking, and Panther hadn't heard of a soldier who hadn't been nearly killed afterward.

Tiger arrived moments later, not hesitating to push his way in as well, and Panther followed his approach.

"With all due respect, sir," Lion was angrily panting, standing rigidly, in a way that Panther had only seen once, "I'd like to know where my sharpshooter is!"

If this had been in any other situation, Panther would have laughed. For once in his life, the Sergeant didn't seem like he was the one in control. Lion wielded that now, and he easily filled the role.

" _Excuse me?_ " the Sergeant was riled up already, no doubt due to Lion's tone, "It's your job to keep your unit in line, soldier!"

Panther wanted to move away nervously, but years of training kept him rooted to the spot.

"He wasn't here when we woke up this morning," Lion seemed to calm down as he realized the Sergeant was about to flay him alive, "and we know about that damn mission that MI6 sent him on! He's _our_ sharpshooter, not MI6's. He's a soldier. He's _SAS."_

The Sergeant had gotten very still as he listened to Lion's short, but passionate impromptu speech. At Lion's last words, he'd gotten strangely white.

"Sir?" Tiger ventured, cutting Lion off from his next words, which were, no doubt, going to be harsh.

The Sergeant moved across the room to the telephone, looking like he had forgotten about J-Unit.

"Could it be?" Panther heard the man mutter, so softly that he had to lean forward to catch his words.

Snapping out of his strange stillness, the Sergeant spun around, spittle flying from his mouth in a way that made him look mad, "OUT! Get _out! NOW!_ "

Panther was just about to turn around and run away with his tail in between his legs when Lion officially signed their death warrant.

" _No_."

Panther waited for the anger and the onslaught of threats, but none came. Without meaning to, Panther had squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the loud shouts that was inevitable, and when he opened them again, he realized that the Sergeant had turned back to the phone and was dialing a number.

"Sir," Tiger spoke, clearly trying to undo the damage, "We just want to know where Lynx is. We're concerned for our unit-mate."

Still, the Sergeant didn't answer. Instead, he pressed the call button and put the call on speakerphone.

For two long rings, the room was filled with silent tension. Then, with a _click_ , a pleasant female voice greeted, "Hello – Royal and General Bank speaking. How may I help you?"

"Get me," the Sergeant's voice was tight and controlled. Panther could sense the thinly veiled fury beneath his words, " _Jones."_

* * *

 **A/N:** Alright, so it's been a very long time. No, I haven't given up. I'm just very busy, which really sucks.

I hope you liked this. I felt like it was a little bit disjointed, but I'm satisfied to finally put my rough kind-of-plot-mission-thing into action. HOPEFULLY, it won't seem as disjointed and jumpy as OZ seems like (as of now), so look forward to that!

On another note, AWOL has reached 20k+ words, excluding all my lengthy author's notes! CELEBRATE!

Anyway, reviews would be great. Even if they're just you yelling at me for being late and more yelling to keep writing chapter twelve, haha.. (though actual content is good too xD)

-Alice xx


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER.**

 **Dedication:** Firstly, to the victims of the Brussels attack. My heart goes out to you, and I hope that you are all safe. I prayed for you and will continue to pray for you. I can't say I know how it feels to experience such terror. I also can't tell you how you should feel, _but_ I want to communicate my own belief that we must stick together and advocate for peace. Anger and fear causes people to lash out, but it won't do anything except cause more chaos, fear, and pain.

Next, to _nrynmrth_ for making me smile with your review. Thank you for your praises and your feedback! Thanks to everyone else who reviewed too! Without your help, I probably wouldn't have updated until... July... or something, haha. Thanks for the _massive_ number of favorites and follows. I didn't even realize I had so many!

 **Questions:** Well, I think this was a universal question, and it was basically _"what's up with Sarge?"_ I went back to see what I did wrong and realized that it does seem rather ambiguous. Let me do a bit of explaining, and once I get around to do a bit of editing, it'll be better. The Sergeant is aware of Lynx's affiliation with MI6. However, he does _not_ know of Lynx's pact with Jones, and it is implied that he does _not_ know when Lynx will be pulled from his job as a soldier. That's basically it!

Heh... oh yeah. Sorry about that last cliffie... that's not answered in this chapter (*MWAHAHAHA*)

* * *

AWOL 12

Trevor Lee didn't feel much like Lynx as he made his way off of the private jet he had been in for the past few hours. He was dressed in expensive clothes, which looked a lot more comfortable than it actually was. Still, he moved around like he did this normally, holding up his head with the arrogance he'd seen many billionaire villains wear.

Lynx's eyes landed on the limousine waiting off to the side, the chauffeur leaning on the side of the sleek, black vehicle. The man was portly, his frame swallowed by a black, bulky suit. He wore dark shades, hiding his eyes from the angry sun. His face was set in a thin line, and Lynx had the distinct feeling that the man was not pleased to see him.

"Sir," the man greeted him dryly, snatching the luggage that another man had been lugging along for Lynx. His American accent was riddled with strong distaste. Lynx was fairly sure that if he had taken the man's sunglasses away, he would be glaring at him.

"It's good to see you again, Ray," Lynx greeted, rolling his eyes and grinning as if they were good friends and not complete strangers — which they were. 'Ray', if that even was his real name, was the liaison between CIA and their operatives. He was also acting as Lynx's personal chauffeur, a personal gift, as one would say.

Ray let out a little huff of annoyance before gesturing for Lynx to get in. He supposed that to the outside eye, their relationship looked like an old friendship. Looking back at a pink-faced Ray, Lynx was not entirely sure that Ray's distaste was faked.

He waited patiently in the car as Ray loaded his luggage into the trunk. A moment later, the driver's seat was occupied by the exasperated man, and they were off to meet Tyler Morgan.

They didn't talk, and Lynx didn't try to initiate a conversation. He was quite suspicious of bugs and took to humming a popular song under his breath as he stretched out on the seats.

Florida was an interesting contrast to dreary London. Lynx stared out the window as they drove, taking in the tall palm trees, swaying in a cheerful dance. The sky was a perfect shade of blue — one that Lynx had only seen when he was on a mission in the Bahamas. People milled around, walking in packs of friends, bright smiles stretched across their faces.

It only took a few minutes before Ray was slowing and pulling up to a small, rundown building. It was two stories high, like the other buildings around it, but it bore the appearance of neglect and abuse. Lynx had not expected any less. After all, these gang members were drug affiliated. He had the impression that they wouldn't care much for their appearance.

"Here we are, sir," Ray told him, turning to face him, "I'll drop of your belongings at your hotel and be back in about half an hour."

"Great," Lynx replied, already halfway out of the limousine.

Ray stopped him, "You know these gangs — they don't care much for anyone. Mr. Morgan said that if something ever happens, that you should have this—" he handed Lynx a small gem, about the size of his thumbnail, "—and that he will leave instructions in your hotel room."

Lynx nodded, inspecting the gem. It was a simple black stone that fit easily into his hand. It was easy to conceal, but he was sure that it was also just as easy to lose it as it was to conceal it.

"Press the center three times," Ray instructed, "When — _if_ — you need it. I _guess_ it only _pertains_ to _soft_ -hearted individuals like you. Crackers, _trackers_ , and all."

Lynx blinked owlishly at the man. Ray had stressed his words intentionally, hinting that the black gem was a GPS tracker. Very useful.

"Thanks, Ray," Lynx told him, pocketing the gem, "Is Dad in there?"

Ray gave a curt nod before turning around again. Lynx took that as his cue to leave.

He shut the car door behind him tightly before strolling up the shabby home, head still held high. Before he could knock or reach for the handle, the door flew open.

"Dylan!"

Before Lynx knew what was happening, he was pulled into a bear hug, the air in his lungs being squeezed out. It took all he had not to lash out on instinct, but once he realized who it was, he relaxed and pasted a giant grin on his face.

"Dad! I missed you so much!"

Tyler released him and pulled him into the house, closing the door behind them. He was grinning too, and if Lynx didn't know any better, he would have thought it was genuine.

"You've grown a lot," Tyler inspected him, "Lemme take a look at you!"

Lynx laughed and did a twirl, taking the time to inspect the house as he did so. It was just as grimy as it looked on the outside. A thick layer of dust covered table tops (other than the kitchen table) and dried mud was crusted on the ground, leading into the kitchen area.

"Six years in the U.K." Lynx reminded Tyler, "You should be glad I'm a legal adult. Mum wouldn't have let me come visit if I were any younger."

Tyler's eyes lit up, "That's right! You're twenty-two now, aren't you? A big, big year!"

Lynx rolled his eyes, "That was last year, Dad. And the drinking age in the U.K. is eighteen, not twenty-one."

Tyler shrugged carelessly. He suddenly gestured around the house, "Horrible, isn't it? It's one of the Boss' safe houses."

Lynx looked around again, noting the broken clock hanging in the foyer, "Not my ideal vacation home, no."

Tyler gave a hearty chuckle, "No," he repeated, "but the Boss' right hand man wants to meet you. Also, tomorrow, for dinner, he wants to meet you — the Boss, I mean. He's bringing his wife, so we're not discussing business too much."

Lynx gazed curiously at him, "Does she not know?"

"She does," Tyler looked at ease, talking behind a feared gang member's back, "but she doesn't approve. I think it has something to do with her background. I don't know the full story."

Lynx nodded, somewhat sympathetic.

"Well, come on," Tyler beckoned Lynx to follow him,"I think you're really gonna like him. We call him Rock because — well — you'll see why."

Lynx doubted very much that he would like this 'Rock' person. He never liked anyone in the mob or drug business ever since the time he'd decided to throw a small ship — a meth lab — onto the police station with a crane. Looking back, that hadn't been a very smart idea.

Tyler led him through the house. It was just about as dirty as it could get. Unwashed dishes were piled up in a corner. Dirty clothes, stained with something that looked like dried blood was in a grimy sink, flies buzzing all around it. Lynx had to bite back a gag of disgust.

The floorboards creaked under Lynx's very expensive black, leather shoes as they made their way through the rooms and to the stairs. They were wooden and seemed to be covered in mold. He wasn't sure he wanted to trust the stairs to hold his weight. Nevertheless, Tyler went up the rickety stairs without a moment of hesitation, and Lynx followed, making a face when he saw the partially green, partially brown walls.

At the top of the landing, Lynx paused to survey the area. It was cleaner up there. The walls of the hallway were at least one color — though that color was a rusty orange that might have been a brilliant color in the past — and there was thankfully no mold anywhere to be seen.

The doors to the rooms were open, in what would have been in a welcoming way, had it not been for the contents. Lynx followed Tyler through the short, narrow hall, glancing around at the small rooms. One, he noted, had three men, piled up in a heap, snoring softly. Something, presumably another fly, buzzed happily above them, attracted to the smell of sweat. Another one was filled with flashy guns and ammunition, all well cared for — something Lynx shivered at. The last room was filled miscellaneous items such as broken televisions, random shell casings, and neatly folded towels. The last door, at the very end of the hall, was closed, a skinny man standing guard in front of it. He was a lanky, young man, about the same age as Lynx. He carried a gun awkwardly in his hands, as if he didn't know how to use it. Lynx didn't like that at all.

"Is that him?" the man grunted, hefting his gun like he was going to get ready to shoot Lynx.

Tyler nodded, looking at ease despite the inexperienced man in front of him. Lynx decided that his pseudo-father must either be crazy or be great at acting. He could never be too careful with spies, "Yeah. Rock wants to meet him."

The man nodded and stepped aside, letting them pass. Tyler opened the door, the hinges making a cringe-worthy squeak as he did so. Once Lynx stepped through the doorway, the man snapped the door closed again, making another dreadful shriek.

"Ah, so this must be the famous Dylan that Tyler has been praising for the past days," a low voice greeted them.

Lynx's eyes latched on the only living person in the room. He was sitting behind a desk that looked much too small, fingering a large skull, about the size of his own head. The rest of the skeleton was off to the side, propped up with a metal bar through the vertebrae. There were three others, each in pristine condition, in contrast with the rest of the room, which was a weary grey.

The man behind the desk was true to his name. He was broad-shouldered, muscles rippling from beneath his shirt. Even sitting, he towered a formidable height. A frown marred his scarred face. His hair was shaved in a close cropped haircut, giving him the appearance of a soldier and not a gang's deputy.

"This is Dylan, my son," Tyler introduced, "Dylan, this is Rock."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Lynx said as pleasantly as he could. At this, Rock's fingers stopped its caress of the skull. He placed it down carefully, his eyes narrowing as he stood up with a puff of air. Lynx could sense that he was a dangerous predator as Rock circled around him, inspecting him for some semblance of a prospective gang member.

Rock stopped in front of him once more after the third circle around him, "You're British."

Lynx's eyebrows involuntarily raised, "Yes, yes I am. Surely my father told you that I lived in London with my mother?"

The titan shook his head, before circling Lynx once more. Off to the side, Tyler was wringing his hands nervously, as any good parent would do.

"Good, very good," Rock muttered. "Tell me, Dylan. Have you had any experience with firearms?"

Lynx eyed the man suspiciously as he came to a halt in front of him, "I have minimal experience," he lied, trying to keep a truthful demeanor.

"Very good, though we have to fix that," Rock muttered once more. He turned to Tyler, a pleased look on his face, "His mother raised him well. He'll make a good member in our ranks."

Lynx had no intention to do so, nor had he been briefed about 'joining' a gang, but he didn't dare expose their operation. He managed to let a pleased smirk slide onto his face before Rock turned around again.

"Tomorrow, the Boss wants to meet you — get a feel for who you are. He only does this for sons and daughters of current gang members, so you should feel honored," Rock paused, evidently thinking of what else to say, "I would be on my best behavior, if I were you. With the Boss, well, his bite is just as bad as his bark. He'll kill you if you put one toe out of line."

Lynx didn't doubt that for a moment. Nodding soundlessly, he prayed that it wouldn't have to come to that. With his ruse as a SAS soldier, his Rider luck had been running out albeit slowly.

"I'll do my best, sir."

A*W*O*L

 _He felt cold as he laid there, his shirt sticky with sweat and black blood. He couldn't remember when he last ate or when he last screamed out with pain. His arms felt slightly numb, but turning his head, he could see that most of the blood was pouring out there._

 _"Oh, Alex..." a soft voice whispered. Alex couldn't see her face because his strength had finally failed and his eyes were sliding shut, but he knew by the voice that it was Thirteen._

 _Soft hands prodded at his wounds, and he felt something cold wash over his battered arms. A moment later, his wounds were bound, and the girl moved on to his other arm._

 _"I don't have anymore water left to waste," Thirteen told him as she bound up his other arm. "I saved a slice of bread for you, and this bit of water is for you to drink."_

 _Alex fought to open his eyes and found a piece of bread dangling in front of his face. Even though it was most likely stale and hard, it still looked delicious._

 _Thirteen helped him to sit up before ripping the piece of bread into small pieces and handing him the pieces of bread._

 _"Don't give up," her voice was soothing as she tilted his head back so she could tip the cup of water in his mouth. "Alex, promise me you won't give up."_

 _Strangled words forced its way up Alex's throat, and he was sure it didn't sound like anything close to what he had intended, but Thirteen understood anyway._

 _"Never — I swear..."_

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah. So, thoughts? Feedback? I'd love to hear for you! Reviews are food, and I'm very hungry (seriously though, I accidentally skipped dinner to write this)! We're also so close to 150+ reviews! Thank you in advance for all you guys who will review!**

 **Love y'all, and remember to spread the peace!**

 **-Alice x**


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** to _Phoenyx634._ Your review made me insanely happy, and I'm really glad you like this! Enjoy this chapter xD

* * *

AWOL 13

"Ready?"

Alex straightened his bowtie, staring intently into the mirror. Ray stood behind him, looking oddly anxious. It didn't really go with his kind of face, Alex decided with a smirk.

"Of course," he responded, turning to face his loyal CIA-chauffeur man. "This all should be over by tomorrow."

Ray nodded curtly, not questioning what 'this' was. Instead, he held out a knife, hilt first, to Alex.

"I have my own," Alex told him, but took the knife anyway. He wasn't dumb enough to refuse something that might save his life later.

Ray shrugged nonchalantly, "It's another handy gift from us. You'll figure out its special effects later."

Alex nodded slowly, sheathing it on a holster at his calf.

Ray looked at him seriously, "The Boss isn't someone you want to let know you're lying. You might not be able to get Juliet's location this time—don't push. He'll know you're not who you say you are, and he'll kill you."

Alex nodded at this. He had worked against people like this elusive boss, and he swore he was ready. He turned off the light, "I'll be fine. If anything happens, you'll know where to find me."

He was referring to the black gem that Ray had given him earlier. It was in his pocket, safe for the time being.

Even in the darkness, Alex could see Ray's annoyed expression. There was a sigh of irritation before the door opened, and Ray grabbed Alex's arm.

Tyler was already there, waiting, as Ray and Alex pulled up. He was dressed in a crisp suit, standing imperiously near a well-trimmed potted plant.

It only took one glance for Alex to know that the restaurant was expensive and upscale. He felt like he had just stepped into some kind of movie. There were two doormen, opening and closing the door according to the flow of people. Men and women, dressed in lavish clothes—from pricey suits to extravagant, glittering dresses—sauntered in and out, talking and laughing, their voices full of money.

It was dimly lit, but Alex could still see the interior. Ruby red curtains were drawn back from vast windows, which showed a beautiful view of the city below. He could see the people too, eating delicately and sipping wine.

Alex whistled lowly. In front of him, Ray seemed to agree, "Go ahead, kiddo. Time's a wastin'."

Alex shook himself and promptly exited the car, hands shoved into his pockets, almost nonchalantly. Tyler spotted him almost immediately, waving enthusiastically from beside the potted plant. Alex made his way over.

"About time, son," Tyler's grin stretched across his face. "The Boss and the Lady Boss are already in there."

Alex followed the CIA agent through the front door and to a secluded table in the back. At once, he noticed that there was a Greek-styled pillar blocking the view of the table from most of the rest of the restaurant.

"Mr. and Mrs. West," Tyler greeted cheerfully as he rounded around the white pillar. Alex followed closely, surprised when he finally laid eyes on the notorious 'Boss'.

The Boss—or Mr. West, according to Tyler—was younger than Alex had expected. He was in his mid-twenties, almost like the same age Alex, or rather _Dylan,_ himself was. He was as tall as Alex was, with a bright face, a pleasant smile (Alex couldn't tell if it was faked), and smoothly combed brown hair.

His wife was the same age and easily the most elegant woman in the room. Thick, luscious locks of gold cascaded down her back, and a smile graced her features. Alex clammed up immediately, a suspicious, niggling feeling in the back of his mind. He didn't recognize this woman. Alex tried to stifle the feeling—there was no reason for him to suspect her, right?

"This is Dylan, Boss," Tyler introduced, "The son I keep talking about."

Alex wondered exactly how long the agent had been talking about him.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir and ma'am," Alex settled for a polite smile, reaching over to shake the Boss' hand. As he did so, he quickly put to use his uncle's favorite skill—pickpocketing. If the Boss noticed the weight of his wallet and phone disappearing, he didn't say anything.

They sat down, Alex smoothly sliding the wallet and phone into his pocket.

"I like him already," Mrs. West commented to her husband, "Please, call me Lauren."

"Dean," the Boss grinned at him, picking up his glass of wine and chugging it down in gulps. The Boss' wife—Lauren—rolled her eyes, hitting his leg underneath the table.

Dean spluttered in protest.

"Sorry about him," Lauren told them cheerfully, "He's already had too much to drink..."

Tyler cleared his throat, "No problem, ma'am." He turned to the man, who was slightly pink in the face, "Boss, I have the reports."

Tyler pulled out an envelope from his pocket, forking it over to Dean, who accepted it with a small scowl. Alex watched as Lauren's smile dropped, and she became downright stony. He wondered why Tyler would have even mentioned or _hinted,_ for that matter, the true intent of the meeting. Dean tucked it quickly into his pocket after seeing his wife's face.

The dinner was mostly a quiet affair. After an initial interrogation—("where did you live?", "where did you attend college?")— and after a failed attempt to whittle any small piece of information from the Wests, Alex could safely say he was frustrated. It had been the better part of an hour, and he'd gotten nothing except strange looks and a subtle kick from Tyler.

"I need to use the loo," Alex excused himself suddenly, as a temporary lapse of silence allowed him to do so. He turned to Tyler and gave a half-hearted smirk, "I hope you can get on without me, old man."

His pseudo-father scowled at him, cuffing his ear in an affectionate way. "Whatever kiddo. The Boss and I have some discussing about you, anyway..."

In the corner of his eye, Alex saw Lauren scowl at the two. He didn't stick around for the domestic dispute.

As soon as he made it to the restroom, he locked himself in a stall, taking the pick-pocketed wallet and cellphone. If there was anything on Juliet, Alex knew it had to be in one of those.

He went through the wallet first, shuffling through the cash and the credit cards to find anything out of the ordinary. Besides a photo of the Wests, there was nothing out of the ordinary. He shoved the wallet back into his pocket and turned his attention on the phone.

Alex grimaced as the man in the stall next to him, made a loud grunting noise.

The phone was locked, which wasn't much of a surprise. He was prepared for this, thankfully, and pulled out his own phone, swiping to find a particular app that Smithers called 'Hack Attack'. Within the next minute, he was in.

He worked quickly and efficiently, sorting through the random junk that seemed to be on the Boss' phone. His messages didn't reveal anything, and the man didn't have any apps on his phone besides Netflix and Hungry Shark.

Alex gnashed his teeth together in frustration. _Nothing_ about Juliet, her capture, or the ransom that needed to be paid. It was like the Boss was keeping it some kind of secret, even though he'd alerted the government already. But why wouldn't he mention it, at least once? Maybe for an update or a command to his gang— _why?_

Exhaling sharply, he pocked the phone once more, flushed the toilet, and made his way back to the table, remembering to wash his hands, of course.

As Alex rounded the pillar, he saw Tyler pull back sharply, as if he had been telling the Wests something secret and very important. He cast a wary look at the three before conjuring an easy smile.

"What did I miss?" he asked, sitting next to Tyler once more. He carefully folded his napkin over his lap again.

"Nothing," Dean's smile seemed unnaturally forced, and Alex wondered if Tyler had said something to him. "Nothing at all."

A*W*O*L

Alex was exhausted by the time he arrived back to his hotel. It was hard keeping up a pretense, and this mission was no exception. He yawned, taking off his bowtie and setting it off to the side uncaringly. He undressed as quickly as he could, leaving the knife holstered to his leg, and the CIA-gifted black gem in his pocket. He crawled into bed, clutching his gun under a fluffy, white pillow. He wasn't taking any chances, no matter where he was or how safe the CIA said he'd be.

He fell into an uneasy sleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

It couldn't have been more than an hour when he heard it: the faint fumbling of the doorknob. Alex, although still exhausted from dinner, was instantly wide awake, his grip tightening around his gun. After a moment of listening, he was out of his bed, stuffing extra pillows underneath the blanket so that it would look like he was deep asleep underneath the covers. He cocked his gun, hiding behind a chair.

He was used to the adrenaline rush that usually accompanied his job, but that didn't mean it was easier to handle every time. His heart still beat wildly, and his breathing grew ragged and sharp. He had to force himself to breathe deeply in order not to give himself away.

The door opened, almost silently. A little light filtered in from the hallway, and Alex could see two burly figures making their way in, surprisingly silent. They closed the door silently behind them, shutting out the only source of light. It was now Alex against two hulking figures in the dark. His luck was utterly brilliant.

Even though Alex couldn't see them, he could hear their labored breaths as they advanced onto the bed. If he squinted just enough, Alex could make out their forms, thanks to the small beam of moonlight filtering in.

The two were preparing some kind of attack, but Alex was quicker and smarter. As silently as he could, he stood, gun in hand. A moment later, two bodies thudded to the floor.

Alex sighed in relief as he reached over to turn the light on. He knew he'd only knocked out the two temporarily, but he still checked that they were alive.

The spy grabbed his duffle bag and began to throw his possessions—minimal as it was—into the bag. He had taken one look at the thugs in his room and _knew._ His cover was blown. He had to get out of there, or he would be captured and tortured.

Alex snatched up his phone without hesitation and dialed a number. He knew that it would take too long, waiting for all the security to pass, so he hefted up his duffle bag and made his way to the door. He left the rest of his suitcases (filled with clothes) behind. After all, they weren't his anyway.

"Look, lady," Alex's temper was short, "Let me speak to—"

Whoever was on the other side of the line interrupted him, going on about protocol or about something equally stupid. Then, she put him on hold.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he hissed, hanging up and redialing—this time, to Ray.

His bare feet were silent on the carpet in the hallway, and he cursed himself. Shoes were helpful, and he'd forgotten them.

" _What do you want, Dylan?"_ came Ray's tired voice.

The tension in Alex's shoulders melted away, "Ray. I think I'm in trouble. You have to—"

Something in his sixth spy sense alerted him that he wasn't quite as alone as he thought he was. Even as he was turning his head, he knew it was too late.

Something heavy hit him on the back of his head, and his vision faded to black.

A*W*O*L

On the second night of Lynx's disappearance, Panther still couldn't fall asleep easily. He worried about his unit-mate, and most importantly, he worried about his _family._ Though Lynx hadn't been around as long as Tiger or Lion had been, he was still a part of their little ragtag, broken family.

" _Sergeant Morrison. Calm yourself, please."_

Panther remembered that voice from when Lynx had first joined J-Unit. It was from that woman—the one who wore the grey business dress. She came to lecture them, and Panther had been excited to hear what she had to say.

" _A delicate situation has come up, and your soldier's skills are needed."_

The Sergeant had naturally been furious at that (" _damn spies!")_ , but the MI6 woman had calmly hung up on him.

Panther heard shuffling from the other side of the room, and he knew that Lion was awake too. The J-Unit leader seemed to have an uncanny sense of when his unit-mates were feeling down.

"Hey, Lion?" Panther whispered across the room, moving so that he could peer at Lion's cot in the darkness.

The man was quiet for a moment, no doubt checking that they wouldn't wake Tiger, before responding, "Yeah?"

"Do you think Lynx is okay?" the question sounded childish, but Panther didn't care. He just didn't want to lose another brother.

Lion's eyes gleamed at him in the darkness, steady, "Lynx can take care of himself. You've seen him."

Panther sighed, closing his eyes, "I dunno, Lion. It just feels... off, you know?"

There wasn't a reply for the longest minute, and Panther wondered if Lion had fallen asleep on him, leaving him to his thoughts.

"I have connections at MI6. I'll ask around," came Lion's reply just as Panther began to shift in his cot, antsy. There was a sigh, and Panther opened his eyes to see Lion turning away again, "Don't worry, Castiel."

It was the first time Lion—or anyone, for that matter—had used his real name in a long time. It was comforting, in a way that Panther had never really understood.

"I can't help but worry," Panther whispered back, turning away too.

They lay in silence for another moment.

Panther sighed, breathing out, "Thanks Connor," before he finally fell asleep once more.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey everyone. SO, if you follow me on Twitter or anywhere else, you might have noticed that I have decided to join Camp NaNoWriMo's April session with _AWOL_. So that means tons of writing for this story! Unfortunately, that also means a lot of editing and blehh stuff before posting. That means my quality of writing is probably going downhill. So do you guys want me updating more frequently with not as much editing done or updating less frequently, but better quality chapters (honestly, my "better quality chapters" most likely aren't "better", lol)? I'll do tons of editing either way at the end of this story!

Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! Be sure to leave a review on the way out. HA, and I just realized that I finally gave "real" names to J-Unit. You can probably see my naming inspiration...

-Alice x


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider.**

 **Dedication:** To everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who didn't! You guys are the BEST. Every time I read one of your reviews, I just want to grin and run around like a madwoman.

 **Note:** I hate this chapter—how it's written. You'll understand as you read.

* * *

AWOL 14

It was cold when Alex finally came to. His vision was blurry, and the back of his head pounded insistently, reminding him what he'd just been through. He'd been too careless, just wandering the halls of his hotel like that. Why hadn't he thought to check before he had bolted?

Alex let out a slow breath as he scolded himself. He couldn't panic now. He had to keep a cool head. He had to figure a way out of the mess.

The first thing he did was to scope out his environment. He was in a sparsely furnished basement. One of his wrists were handcuffed to a rusting pipe. Somewhere, at the other side of the basement, water dripped loudly.

Scanning the walls, Alex was pleased to see that there weren't any visible cameras, but he couldn't be too careful.

His head gave a particularly painful throb, and he winced, hands flying to his head.

"Ow!" He hissed as his right hand was jerked backwards by the cuff. He honestly hated these stupid missions.

Alex examined himself next, checking for injuries and his weapons. Besides his head and a scraped elbow, there was nothing really life-threatening to worry about.

However, he noted immediately that he had been searched. Both his CIA-gifted knife and his gun were conspicuously missing. He reached into his pocket with great difficulty, praying that they hadn't taken his GPS tracker.

He had to fumble for a minute because he couldn't quite stop the shaking in his hands (it was just cold, he told himself) before he found the familiar object. Finally, something had gone right in his miserable life.

He pressed the center of the gem three times, relieved to see a small red light flare in the middle of the gem before disappearing once more. He pocketed it.

Alex's mind turned to more pressing matters after that was sorted out. He hadn't forgotten his main objective of the mission—rescue Juliet Wood—nor had he forgotten the suspicious looks that the Boss had given him the night before. If he didn't know better, Alex would have thought that...

He didn't know how long he'd have to wait, but it apparently wasn't too long. He heard the loud footsteps on the stairs before he saw them.

Alex recognized the man that was sent to get him. It was the Boss' right-hand man: Rock.

"Damn," the man growled lowly as he ventured closer to Alex, "I really liked you, you know. Turns out you're just another one of those scumbags."

Alex made no reply except to tilt his head.

"The Boss wants to see you," Rock told him, uncuffing him from the rusting pipe. The handcuffs clanged loudly on the floor. "Best not to struggle, kid."

Alex felt the gun on his shoulder blades. Rock shoved him forward roughly, but Alex caught his balance before he could tumble over.

"Up the stairs," Rock commanded.

As Alex emerged from the basement, he was slightly glad to see that he wasn't in the safe house he'd been brought to before. This house was much cleaner, and it had the sense of being well-lived in.

It had a modernized style to it. The walls were painted in neutral colors like grey or coffee-brown in various rooms, and the furniture was a pristine white. Alex had the feeling that he'd been brought to the very heart of the gang—their headquarters, if they had such a place.

There were several gangsters milling around, but as Alex passed them, gun pressed into his back, they stopped to stare or to make threatening gestures. It took all of his will not to roll his eyes.

He was forced into the largest room, most of the gangsters following behind like they had been called to congregate in the room. A large desk, like Mrs. Jones' desk or someone of equal importance, stood imperiously at one end of the room.

The Boss—Dean, though Alex supposed that they weren't on first name basis anymore—frowned down at him, tapping a pen with his fingers.

Rock forced Alex down on his knees, making some kind of breathless chuckle as he withdrew. Alex didn't have to turn around to know that the gun was still pointed at him.

The room was completely silent. It seemed like everyone was holding their breaths to see what their lord and master would do. It amused Alex, but he didn't have time to laugh at them. He had to figure a way out of this—and fast. Rock seemed a bit too trigger-happy for his liking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex spotted Tyler, who looked at the scene impassively. A moment later, he turned around to usher someone out of the room.

"This is my house too! You can't just—" it was obviously the Boss' wife that Tyler was shooing away. In front of him, the Boss shifted uncomfortably, eyes slipping past Alex and to his wife. The other thugs, sensing their leader's shift in mood, began to mutter to each other.

"Enough," the Boss called authoritatively. Instantly, the gangsters shushed, moving closer as if they couldn't hear the man's words. The Boss' attention had shifted back to Alex.

"Dylan Morgan," the words were icy. The man before him sounded like a different person than the man that Alex had knew the previous day. "Your father gave you away, you know. What I want to know is _why_ you're here. What does the CIA want with me? They know they can't catch me, as the FBI previously demonstrated."

Laughter from the members behind him.

Alex turned to look at Tyler, who had shuffled in again. His suspicions were confirmed. Tyler—whatever his real name was–was a traitor. Was he drawn in by the money that the gang life seemed to produce? Alex couldn't comprehend why someone would want to live a life full of deceit. He snorted inwardly. Didn't he live a life exactly like that?

Tyler turned his face away, as if he was ashamed and he wanted to hide his face from Alex. Alex did his best to glare daggers into the man's side.

"I'm up here, kid," the Boss snapped, and Alex felt the butt of Rock's gun hit him on the side of the head. He fell sideways, eyes watering in pain. The crowd behind him jeered, and Alex had the sudden feeling that he was in some kind of fight scene in a movie, only Rock had a gun that could kill him at any moment.

The Boss was losing patience, "Talk, kiddo. I don't have all day. Why are you here?"

Alex pushed himself back on onto his knees, wiping blood off of his face before standing, glaring defiantly at the gang leader before him. When it became evident that he was not going to talk, the Boss gestured for one of the gangsters to move forward.

He saw the blow that was inevitably going to hit him square in the ribs. Alex dodged, retaliating with a blow to the man's solar plexus, sending him careening back, gasping for breath.

 _BAM._

Alex was glad he had practiced all those hours dodging fake bullets. It came into use now as he dropped to the floor, rolling to safety.

"Stop," came the Boss' quiet voice as the members began to rush forward. He was glaring down at Alex, the side of his desk splintered where the bullet had hit it. He looked back at Rock, "I believe Mr. Morgan here needs a lesson. Rock, if you would?"

"My pleasure," the man rumbled, amusement evident in his voice. For the second time, Alex felt the butt of Rock's gun against his head, and he collapsed, world fading.

When he woke again, he was tied up in a chair in the center of the basement. His vision was slightly blurry as he lifted his head, which was pounding due to being thrown around like a rag doll, and he held back a grimace of pain.

There was no one in the basement with him, but someone must have been keeping guard at the top of the basement stairs because he could hear conversations up in the room above him. Alex couldn't quite make out the words, but from the pitches, he deduced that it was most likely the Boss and his wife.

Alex moved his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. He didn't have time to sit around like this. He had to find a way out, then rescue Juliet, wherever she might be hiding.

"I _hate_ it when you take your business into our home!" Upstairs, Lauren's voice was steadily getting louder. Alex winced at the tone—a mixture of sweet honey, anger, and whine.

The reply was too low for Alex to hear.

"I will not 'calm down'! You have all those safe houses—I can't afford getting blood all over the place. You're lucky we have that black carpet in this room—"

Alex began to try to uncuff himself. He had had experience with this too, but he didn't have a pin or a hair clip to unlock the handcuffs around his wrists. The bonds around his chest were easier, but he didn't dare untie himself fully. He had to wait until there was a good opportunity.

Above him, Alex heard the sound of something crashing, and then heavy footsteps heading away. Silence prevailed for the longest minutes before another pair of footsteps made its way closer to Alex's location.

The Boss appeared, holding a pocket-knife in front of him carelessly. A moment later, Rock appeared, carrying his own array of knives.

"Ah, you're awake, I see," the Boss pointed out unhelpfully. Alex scowled at the man. "It's unfortunate that Lauren doesn't agree with my... ways. However, she can't stop me from questioning you down here."

Alex wondered how a man like Dean, the feared Boss, could have possibly attracted someone like Lauren. It just didn't sit well with him.

"So, I'll ask you again, Dylan Morgan," the Boss flicked open his pocket-knife in a way that made him look threatening in the half-lit room, "Why did the CIA send you here?"

Alex knew that his usual tactics with the dumb guards or torturers wouldn't do. The Boss was an intelligent man who could think for himself, unlike the regular foot soldiers of the gang.

He remained silent.

The Boss sighed, almost looking regretful. He nodded to Rock, who set down his knifes and advanced forward with balled fists. Something around his knuckles glinted, and Alex nearly groaned when he realized they were brass knuckles. He braced himself for the pain.

Rock only punched him once, but it was with enough force to push his chair over a foot. Alex barely contained his cry of pain.

"Look," the Boss sounded annoyed, "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Trust me, the hard way is a waste of time for everyone. Just tell me what I want to know, and this can be over."

Alex didn't trust the man one bit, not was he willing to pass any information to the Boss. When he didn't speak again, the Boss sighed and nodded to Rock once more. Alex watched as the man retreated into a corner and the second blow began to fall.

Rock got tired of using his fists a half an hour in, and instead, picked up his tray of knives. Alex wasn't scared per se—he'd gotten tortured loads of times before—but he wasn't sure that Rock or the Boss cared too much about his well being. He could die at their hands for all they cared.

Pretty soon, Rock got tired of torturing Alex all together. He left, annoyance written all over his face before another man took his place. All the while, the Boss stood in the corner, carefully observing Alex.

Alex felt a lot like a slab of meat that was cut up and beaten for a meal. As the next blow knocked the breath out of him, he couldn't help but let out a sound of pain that didn't go unnoticed by the Boss.

"Stop," he commanded, standing upright in interest. His eyes fixed on Alex's own, and he asked ruefully, "Are you ready to talk? Why are you here?"

The gangster that had currently been torturing him grabbed fistfuls of his hair and forced his head up.

"I was passing by," Alex finally spat out, "and I wanted to visit my dad! Is that a crime?"

Evidently, the Boss had done some homework. He shook his head in disbelief, and the torturing commenced once again.

He didn't speak again for the next couple hours, taking the blows and the knife wounds as he tried to look for a way out. Occasionally, he'd lash out and head-butt one of the guys, but that usually caused more pain for him than his captor.

The Boss stood in the corner the whole time, carefully analyzing Alex's movements.

As the pain increased, Alex found ways to distract himself. He knew he had been in America for a couple of days since the announcement of Juliet Wood's capture. However, he didn't know how long he'd been knocked out, though at the most, he'd been out for two days. That meant he had one more day left to find Juliet.

The CIA was coming too. The gem had ensured that he'd be tracked, and he'd also called Ray—unless he was a traitor too. The thought made his heart sink.

His best chance was to try to escape when there was a lapse in torturing and where there were no prying eyes. He'd search the house for Juliet, then leave and make contact with the CIA.

Alex doubted that Juliet was in the same house as he was currently being kept in. He could try to find information in the Boss' office once he escaped, but _still._ The gang was bound to have multiple properties, and there wasn't enough time to check all of them.

That thought in mind, Alex lifted his head, still dizzy from his last blow, to look directly into the Boss' eyes. The man was standing perfectly still, as if he were a statue, staring at Alex as if he had some intuition that knew exactly what he was going to do.

His current torturer, evidently sensing the shifting mood, backed away and retreated up the stairs. Moments later, Rock took his steady place by the Boss' side, Tyler flanking him.

Alex's attention was divided in three ways—one to the commanding presence of the Boss, one to the hulking Rock, and the last to Tyler, who wore a perfectly blank mask, hiding the small flash of emotion he had had earlier. In his hand, he held a gun, ready to fire.

"They sent me," Alex's voice was rough from holding back cries of pain, "to find the girl you're holding captive."

If the Boss was surprised at his sudden confession, he didn't show it. He advanced towards Alex, eyes narrowed, "Continue."

Alex internally frowned at this. He had spent a lot of time watching the Boss' body language, and the man seemed too casual for his comfort. He decided to push his luck, "Wood. Juliet Wood."

"Anything else?" the Boss questioned, tilting his head. It made him look like a curious dog, waiting for orders.

Alex didn't answer.

"Very well," the Boss turned his back on Alex and waved a hand, "Kill him."

Tyler, gun already drawn, wasted no time. Alex didn't dare close his eyes—he'd stared down the barrel of a gun, facing his death before. He wouldn't shy away at it now.

Yet, as Tyler's finger tightened around the trigger, he couldn't help but let his eyes snap shut.

 _BANG._

* * *

 **A/N:** I _really_ hate how this is written. It's really sloppy, and I think the only way to fix it is if I rewrite it. However, that will probably have to wait until I finish the story.

Alex revealing why he's there: It was supposed to be a strategic move, but I don't think I really conveyed it well. It's supposed to be a "last resort" kind of thing—the kinds where someone tricks the other person into talking, which evidently doesn't work.

Anyway, I apologize for this piece of poop, and I _will_ fix it. Bear with me please!

-Alice x


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** Thank you to everyone who tried to give some ideas! I think I know where I went wrong in 14, and I'll fix it after this event is over. Thanks to everyone who tried to assure me that it wasn't too bad, but haha, I still think it was _baaaaad._ But, it did make me feel better, knowing that you guys don't hate me after that disaster...

* * *

AWOL 15

"Any word yet?" Lion's commanding presence, though in the Sergeant's office, wasn't dwarfed by the man behind the desk. In fact, it was the opposite. He seemed to grow taller in front of Sergeant Morrison, his body language stiffly respectful, yet defensive.

The Sergeant didn't seem to mind as he stretched out, his gaze lingering on the phone. He sighed, "No luck. MI6 isn't budging."

"What about _my_ contacts?" Lion pressed, eyes sharp as he observed the weary man before him.

The Sergeant shook his head, "MI5 has a vague impression of something going on in America. I contacted one of my CIA allies. She hasn't called me back yet—"

The phone on his desk began to ring sharply, cutting through the dull atmosphere that had previously governed the office. The Sergeant was quick to snatch up the phone, pressing the button eagerly.

"Sergeant Morrison, SAS," the man greeted.

Lion watched intently as the man listened to whatever was being said over the line. The Sergeant's features brightened at something the other person—presumably his contact—was saying.

"Hold on," the man told his contact excitedly, "Let me put you on speakerphone."

Lion leaned forward as the Sergeant did so.

" _For Lion?"_ the voice from the receiver guessed. Her accent was clearly American.

He replied, "Yes, ma'am."

" _Such manners,"_ the woman chuckled, " _Anyway Sarge, I did some digging around. CIA is keeping this one under wraps. Like_ way _under wraps. I had to cash in a favor from an NSA buddy of mine, who had to talk to another CIA agent higher up in the chain—"_

The Sergeant cleared his throat. Lion just looked at the receiver curiously. Was that woman hyped up on sugar or something?

 _"Right," she said, papers rustling from the receiver, "he's in America, all right. Reports say that he's in Florida on an undercover mission with a suspected turncoat by the name of Darrel Eisenhower. They're investigating the kidnap of Juliet Wood, the daughter of a high up government official."_

Lion took a sharp breath, his hands suddenly becoming clammy. In front of him, the Sergeant had gone pale and was now wringing his hands in an agitated motion. Lion took an unconscious step forward, asking," is there any more? Please, tell me there's more. Do you have his status?"

There was a moment of silence from the other end of line. Lion waited with baited breath. This could be it. He swore not to let any one of his unit-mates get hurt again. Not after Duck.

 _"There's one more thing…"_ the woman sounded grave as the line crackled. Lion leaned forward, as did the Sergeant, _"I've heard rumors that the MI6 spy's cover has been blown. He called in for reinforcements, but CIA thinks it's a bad idea. They've already contacted the British government. Nothing much is being done."_

"So?" the Sergeant pressed, looking on edge as he glared holes into the receiver, "what are you saying? What are we going to do?"

 _"I don't know,"_ the voice came, sounding smug, yet knowing, _"what will you do?"_

There was a click, and the phone line went dead.

The two men we're silent as they lingered on the woman's last words. Lion took a tentative step back, wondering how he had gotten so close to the Sergeant in only the couple minutes they had been talking to the CIA agent. The Sergeant didn't seem to mind. He wore a contemplative look on his face, and he began to dial a number.

"What are you doing, sir?" Lion furrowed his eyebrows, though he already had the feeling that he knew who the older man was calling.

"Hell, I'm taking back my soldier," the man snarled, hitting the buttons on his phone with the force of an angry hippo, "and Jones isn't going to stop me."

A*W*O*L

Alex was surprised at what death felt like. For instance, he still felt very much alive. He could still feel the sores on his face, the cuts and bruises on his body, and he could still taste his own metallic blood in his mouth. He could still feel the cold handcuffs around his wrists and the ropes around his body. He had always thought that dying felt completely different–something new.

He tentatively cracked open an eye, bewildered as he was faced with the same scenery as he had in the last few hours. The basement was still just as cold and just as grey. It was like nothing has changed at all except for the fact that, as Alex turned his head, there was a gigantic blood splatter on the wall, where the Boss had been moments before.

Alex turned his gaze onto Tyler, who calmly lowered his gun. Rock was knocked out cold, half of his body laying in a pool of blood, clearly not his own. Dean–the feared boss–had fallen face first onto the ground. Alex could see the hole in his head, where the bullet had lodged itself. He had to fight back a gag of repulsion.

He turned his eyes back on Tyler, whose face had turned blank at the sight of the two men.

Alex clenched his fists, thinking hard. If Tyler wasn't working with the CIA or the Boss' gang, who was he working for?

"What are you doing?" Alex croaked, his voice raspy.

Tyler turned his steady gaze onto the younger spy, his lips curling into a semblance of a smile. He seemed to know what Alex was thinking, "Tell me what you know about Juliet Wood."

Alex didn't answer. Crossing the room in great strides, Tyler backhanded Alex powerfully, sending him flying off to the side, along with his chair. Tyler jerked him upright, his face taut with anger.

"Tell me!" he roared, leaning close, hands clutching Alex's shoulders. Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled. His grip was tight and bruising.

"Didn't CIA tell you?" Alex spat back, not bothering to struggle underneath his grip.

Tyler abruptly let go, shoving Alex back a couple inches, his face suspiciously blank again, "They've suspected that I'm a rat for a while now. You have all the information." He turned his intense glare onto Alex.

"Figures," Alex mumbled to himself. Only _he_ would be sent into the field with a suspected turncoat.

Tyler didn't relent with his first command, "Tell me what you know about Wood. Tell me what the CIA knows. Tell me!"

"Don't get feisty now, Tyler," a movement at the edge of Alex's line of sight alerted him of another presence. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of whoever was speaking, though he had a vague idea. He hoped he was wrong, yet as he struggled to catch a glimpse, he knew that his suspicions were correct.

"I have big, big plans for this one," Lauren smiled widely at Alex, her teeth flashing white in the dim light, "He's Alex Rider."

Tyler visibly stiffened, his eyes darting back and forth from Alex to Lauren, and back to Alex. Alex threw a sharp glance at Lauren. How did she know that?

"There've been rumors about you, you know," Lauren answered his question as she stopped directly in front of him. "All around the world, all the _serious_ players have heard your name—have heard whispers about you and who you are. Though, they really don't do you justice."

Alex kept his lips sealed, his glare directed at the woman. She cast a careless look at her dead husband and the unconscious man beside him, and instead, took another step closer to Alex.

He tensed as Lauren got too close for comfort. She smelled like vanilla and something flowery, and Alex determinedly kept his glare fixed on a point in the wall across the room.

Lauren searched him, looking for whatever she was looking for. Alex didn't know what. He'd already been searched before.

Tyler seemed to have the same idea, "I've already taken his weapons."

Lauren was too concentrated to reply right away. She stuck her hands into Alex's pockets, and a feeling of dread washed over him. When she withdrew her hand, Alex could see the glittering CIA contraption in the middle of her palm.

"Well done," she drawled to Tyler, holding it high so he could see, "in letting the CIA know where Rider is. This is a _tracker,_ you idiot!"

Tyler wisely remained silent, his eyes trained on the gem.

Lauren sighed, her arm dropping. She handed the gem to Tyler, "Plant this somewhere far away from us and move the boy into the safe house where the other one is. I'm calling Wood. The deal is off."

She disappeared, back up the stairs.

It took Tyler a moment to comprehend her words. Alex watched as he blinked, baffled by the woman's words. Tyler turned to him, "You heard her, kiddo. Let's go."

A*W*O*L

"I got more intel from my contacts," the Sergeant put down his phone, standing. Lion and the rest of his unit were lined up in front of the man, trying not to let their zealous hopefulness show on their faces.

"I have an address," the Sergeant sounded triumphant for a moment, but the next, he withered away again, "but it'll take you a couple hours to get there."

Lion fought the urge to cheer.

"I have to tell you that the situation isn't looking good," the Sergeant warned, looking directly into the eyes of the soldiers before him. "The perpetrator called to tell that the deal—the one with the official's daughter—is off. No one is sure what that means."

Lion sorted through the options furiously. If the deal was off, Wood might already be dead, but how would that benefit the kidnappers? She might be used for something else. Maybe she was being sold for a higher price? No, that didn't make sense either. Holding power over the government was worth so much more. Using Wood as leverage to get information from a captured Lynx? Most definitely.

Lion knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but he couldn't help it. He gritted his teeth.

"CIA is letting us take one of the other agents assigned to the mission," the Sergeant was pacing now. He stopped after the third oscillation, right in front of Lion, "You leave as soon as you're packed. Dismissed—Lion, a word."

Tiger and Panther shot hesitant looks at him, but left when Lion subtly nodded.

As soon as they were gone and out of earshot, the Sergeant sighed, running a dry hand over his slightly wrinkled features. He blinked a few times and fixed a stern look on Lion, "Not one today, you hear? I'm not losing a soldier today."

Lion nodded surely. He wasn't going to let that happen either. Not ever in his life again.

* * *

 **A/N:** So I figured out what caused the horrible chapter 14. It was because I participated in some word sprints, and I just started typing without a brain, then I was too lazy to make the torture scenes better/accurate, then I just plugged in the plot... and yeah. Thankfully, it doesn't really mess with my half-formed plot...

So, hopefully this chapter was better. We're now bordering 30k+ words! Ignore FFN's word count, because most of it is just me, rambling on and on in my A/N's, kind of like this one, lol. ANYWAY, I'm going to get to sleep because it's 2 AM... Love y'all! Make sure to feed me on the way out!

-Alice x


	16. Chapter 16

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** Ahhh, you guys are all so awesome, I can't pick a person to dedicate it to... AHHH. But I gotta give it to _LuminousMoonRay._ Thanks for your review(s)! It made me laugh so much xD

But seriously, thanks to all of you. I'm overwhelmed by the amount of support!

* * *

AWOL 16

"I gave him a GPS tracker the first day we met," the CIA agent—Lion had been told that his name was Ray—said, swiveling his computer screen around to show a map, a single blinking point on it. "This is where he is, assuming the kid kept it on his person."

Lion leaned in, eyes narrowed, "Then why aren't we moving? Let's _go!"_

"Lion, we have to think through this rationally," from behind him, Tiger laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, his scarred face earnest. He turned to Ray, "What's the plan?"

The man hesitated, a shadow passing over his face, but it was gone so quickly that Lion thought that he must have imagined it.

"We go, of course."

It took them ten minutes to arrive covertly and another five to secure the perimeter. The Americans had provided a couple squads of SWAT men who, in Lion's opinion, weren't very friendly.

The tracker had lead them to an abandoned warehouse, something that Lion had found ironic. Could these people get any more clich _é_ d?

"Go, go, go!" came the crackled order from over the earwig.

One of the SWAT men broke down the door, and the two units—American and English respectively—burst in, guns at the ready.

It only took half a second for Lion to realize that the place was empty, no Lynx in sight, and another half a second to see that the place was booby trapped. He dropped to the ground with a, "DUCK!"

Gunfire shattered the silence that had previously dominated the warehouse.

"Shite!" somewhere by his side, Lion heard Panther cry out in pain.

Lion struggled to his unit-mate on his elbows and knees, calling out, "Panther? Panther!" frantically.

Tiger was already there, stopping the blood flow expertly. His jaw was clenched in concentration, but otherwise, he looked the calmest out of all of them.

The gunfire died out after thirty seconds of pure chaos. Surveying the area, Lion knew that the guns must have run out of bullets and seeing the pile of shell casings, he knew he was right.

"Status report!" Lion called out hoarsely, picking himself up slowly.

A pause. Then, "Greyhound forty down. Gunshot wound to the neck. All others accounted for."

Lion sagged in relief, though he had no response for the fallen SWAT soldier. He clutched his gun as he made his way around the warehouse, looking for the GPS tracker.

" _It's black. Kind of looks like a gem. You'll know when you see it."_

Lion, indeed, did know once he laid eyes on it. He slowly squatted, snatching up the gem from the pile of shell casings. It twinkled at him, as if it were mocking him.

"Fuck!"

A*W*O*L

"I really hate my luck."

Alex's handcuffs had been removed after he'd been shoved into yet another basement (or a bomb shelter—Alex wasn't sure), though it didn't exactly do him any good. There was no way out, barring the one that lead upstairs to the kitchen, but that was reinforced by some metal inside the frame.

"Tell me about it," a dull voice responded from across the room.

Alex didn't react to the girl's sarcastic quip. He merely eyed her wearily, asking, "Did they hurt you?"

The girl—Juliet—shook her head, shuffling closer to Alex. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tired way she held herself. She hadn't been there long, but she'd already started wasting away.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Juliet asked, crossing her arms.

Alex didn't answer. Instead, he paced along the entire room, looking for an exit or some kind of tool he could use. When he found none, he sighed and sat down on the ground, hard.

"What do you know about the people holding us?" Alex demanded, gesturing for Juliet to sit as well. She did, scowling fiercely at him.

"I know they only coming three times a day for me. They give me food and water, then they leave. They're waiting for a ransom, I think."

Alex shook his head, "The deal they wanted your father to accept: it's gone. They're planning something else now. I just don't know what!"

He gritted his teeth, racking his brain for an idea—anything. Did Lauren have ties to an organization he'd shut down? He knew that plenty of people wanted him dead.

"My name is Lynx," Alex told Juliet suddenly, trying to relax.

Juliet scoffed, "Great. They locked me in here with a psychopathic teenager. Just what I wanted."

Alex raised an eyebrow, "I'm not a teenager, and I'm not psychopathic." He didn't offer any other explanation. He simply closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.

Somewhere along the way, Alex fell asleep, his spy survival instincts telling him that he would need the extra energy. When he woke again, Juliet had retreated to the far side of the room, asleep on top of a bundle of blankets. At the foot of the steps leading up to the house, two plates of food was set neatly, each with two plastic forks.

Alex scrambled to snatch his plate, solely for the plastic fork. Still, he ate his portion, but when he was finished, he pocketed the plastic fork.

"What are you doing?" came Juliet's groggy voice. Alex didn't answer her. He wanted to leave her out of this.

Already, a plan was formulating in his mind. The next time someone walked in, presumably to take the plates or to give them more food, he would strike. He'd get both himself and Juliet out of there.

He didn't have to wait long. Above him, the door opened, letting in the clear sound of laughter, before shutting harshly, cutting the noise off instantly. Alex fixed his eyes on the figure that emerged.

"Good morning, Alex," Lauren greeted, a pleasant smile on her face. "Did you have a good breakfast?"

Alex merely fixed a scowl on his face.

"Oh, don't be like that," the woman turned her gaze onto Juliet, who crossed her arms. "I believe this is my first time meeting you. Hello Miss Wood. My name is Lauren."

Something about Lauren't big, doe eyes, and her ethereal appearance rubbed Alex the wrong way.

"What do you want with us?" he stood, hands in his pockets. One fist was clutched around the plastic fork in his pocket. He took a step forward.

Lauren pondered for a moment, allowing Alex to sneak up closer. He just needed to get close enough to strike.

"I want you to understand," she finally answered, "and I want you to know why I've become like this. I want to get my revenge."

Alex paused at that. He hadn't expected such an honest answer that seemed to bring more questions than answers. He took another step forward, and now he was within striking distance, "What do you mean—revenge?"

Something in Lauren's eyes flashed. Was it pain? A memory?

"Revenge for leaving me behind," she stated simply, and Alex lunged forward, taking the opportunity. He held up the fork, ready to plunge into the woman's eyes or any exposed flesh. He stabbed down with as much force as he could.

A hand caught his wrist, and he found himself struggling against the unexpected force. Lauren had reacted with the fastest reflexes he'd seen without even blinking an eye. She barely even seemed to be struggling against Alex's force.

She knocked him back with the heel of her hand to his solar plexus. Alex stumbled back, wheezing, as she delicately plucked the plastic fork out of his hand.

"Charming," she sneered, "but I knew you were going to go for it. Especially with that empty plate over there." She gestured with her head.

Alex couldn't do anything except glare and wheeze.

"As I was saying before you _rudely_ interrupted me," Lauren hummed, observing the fallen spy, "I want my revenge. You left me behind even though you _promised."_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Alex spat, only partially recovering from the blow. "I only met you a few days ago. How did that warrant your revenge?"

The woman smiled, but there was nothing warm about it. It just seemed like a pretty twitch of her muscles or a piece of clothing that she just couldn't wear right.

"What? Don't you recognize me anymore? I know it's been a few months, but really? If you can be miraculously saved, why can't I get a new face?" Lauren scoffed, her voice bitter as she cast a scathing look at Alex.

He stiffened, "What does that mean?"

Lauren stilled, "You really don't recognize me, hm? It doesn't matter," she drew something from a holster around her waist. It was a knife that Alex vaguely recognized as the one Ray had given him right before he'd gone to dinner with the Wests. She handed it to him, hilt first, "You might as well take this. No one's coming, and you can't get past me."

She turned to leave. Alex knew that this was his only opportunity to strike—break out of the place and find reinforcements—but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Who are you?" Alex managed to force out before Lauren could have the time to disappear up the stairs.

Lauren turned back for just a fraction of a second, "I think you remember me as Thirteen."

A*W*O*L

"How are we supposed to find him now?" Lion was frustrated, his hands balled up in fists, wisely not clutching his gun.

They were back at the temporary base that the CIA had set up, crowded around the computer that Ray had set up. He was staring at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What is it?" Lion snapped at the spy. He knew that look. It never meant anything good.

Ray tapped a few keys, his eyes darkening, "Before we separated," he began, "I gave him something: a knife."

Panther sighed in the background, bitterly, muttering something under his breath that Lion couldn't catch. He exchanged looks with Tiger, who moved over to the wounded soldier, murmuring something about administering some pain medication.

Lion turned back to Ray, lifting his eyebrows expectantly, "What about the knife?"

Ray turned back to his computer, "The knife: it has a GPS tracker installed in the handle, but I'd know if he activated it. There's a chance it was taken away from him, but no one would know about-well, you know."

"Then why aren't we tracking him down right now?" Lion demanded, agitated.

"It's virtually impossible to track him if he hasn't turned on the tracker!" Ray shot back, "I can try to activate it, but this is a CIA made object. It's not made to be able to hack into it easily."

"But?" Lion pressed, some of his anger fading as Ray began to type furiously.

"But," he said after a moment of concentrated typing, "I'm going to try my best to get in. Settle down, boys. We have a long night ahead of us."

* * *

 **A/N:** HA. I bet you guys were wondering why I decided to throw in random scenes with Thirteen earlier in the story. Anyway, hope you liked. Looks like things are finally looking up for Alex! ( _Wellllll...)_

I was thinking about starting an AR/SPN crossover after this one (maybe in July's Camp NanoWriMo). What do you think? And hey, we should all do Camp NaNo! Go check it out, and tell me if you're interested! We could all be in a cabin and write... AND THEN THERE WOULD BE LOTS OF STORIES FOR THE FANDOM!

-Alice x


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** AHHH I can never pick someone to dedicate to... You guys are just all so supportive, and I want to HUG YOU ALL. Anyway, the AR/SPN x-over I was talking about is Alex Rider and Supernatural for those who didn't know what I meant by SPN xD

 **WARNING: Dark, dark, dark material.** Not sure if I like what I wrote. I'm slightly terrified of my own ideas

* * *

AWOL 17

"What does she want with me–with us?" Alex muttered under his breath as he tapped the knife Lauren, or rather Thirteen, had given him. "Why not just kill me? Does she want me to suffer? She hasn't done anything like that yet..."

He lapsed into silence, thinking hard.

"So your name is Alex?" Juliet questioned from across the room. Even at a distance, Alex could see the raised eyebrow.

He nodded.

"Why did you tell me to call you Lynx?" She asked, crossing her arms. "It's not even a name."

Alex shrugged, "I'm SAS. It's supposed to make dying less personal."

Juliet paled at the thought, "Does this mean you don't think we'll make it out?"

Alex winced at his poor choice of words, but he didn't reply. He didn't want to give the girl a false sense of hope, and he didn't want to take all of her hope away either.

When it became clear that Alex wasn't going to answer, Juliet sighed and rolled back on her side, facing away from him.

Alex sighed too, twirling the knife between his fingertips. It was the same one that Ray had given him a few days prior. He studied it now, recalling what the CIA agent had said. It had special features that would be useful.

He turned the knife over in his hands, inspecting each part of the knife in different angles, frowning in concentration. From what he could see, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was just a regular knife that weighed a little too heavily on one end than the other.

Alex examined the handle, eyes sharp with interest. Maybe there was something in the handle. He ran his fingers over the black handle, feeling for any unusual bumps. He found one almost instantly on the part of the knife where his thumb was supposed to rest, and he pressed it, curious.

The knife shuddered quietly under his hand, and he heard a small _crack_ on the opposite side of the wall.

"What?" He muttered to himself as he crossed the room to examine what had been ejected.

A small tranquilizer dart had shattered against the cold, grey wall. A note, attached to the shattered dart, read ' _enough to make woozy'._

That was certainly useful. Alex took to exploring the knife again.

It didn't take too long for him to find all the features. The first was the tranquilizer darts. The second seemingly did nothing. The third also seemingly did nothing until Alex had accidentally brushed his finger along the flat side of the blade and had gotten electrocuted. It wasn't fun.

He was fairly sure that Lauren (he still had a hard time envisioning her as Thirteen) hadn't found out about how special the knife was or else she would have never given it to him. Still, Alex was suspicious.

Alex peered over at Juliet, who had been sleeping the whole time he had been experimenting with the knife. She'd even slept through him electrocuting himself.

He turned away, his attention diverted as he remembered the task at hand. He needed to figure a way to get out of Lauren's grasp. He needed to get Juliet back to England, safe.

Alex, with the _luck_ he had had all his years, had plenty of experience, trying to escape from unruly barbarians. He, more than anyone, knew that he had to wait for the right time when Lauren's guard was down. He didn't know when that would be, but he had a feeling it was going to be when he was weakest too.

Above him, the door creaked open, and Alex heard two sets of footsteps descend. He quickly hid his knife—it was thankfully similar in design to a pocketknife—and crouched protectively over Juliet, who didn't seem like she cared much.

"Good morning, Alex," Lauren greeted. Was it morning? There was no sense of time in the basement, nor was there any source of light that could even hint at what time it was.

Lauren pouted when Alex didn't respond. The man that had come down with her—Alex stiffened as he realized it was Tyler—cracked his knuckled aggressively.

"What? Are you going to ignore me?" Lauren questioned, her tone pleasant as if she was talking to a petulant child. She made a disappointed _tsk-_ ing noise. "Well, if you must. Tyler, if you will?"

Alex tensed as the man came dangerously too near him. He moved in front of Juliet, defensive, "What do you want?"

"No, no. It's too late," Lauren scolded as Tyler forcibly knocked Alex out of the way. He reached for Juliet, dragging her away from her bed. The scream of protest that was issued from her cracked lips chilled Alex to the bone.

"What are you doing?" Alex snapped, rushing forward. He halted abruptly as Lauren, moving faster than he'd seen anyone move, pointed a gun at his forehead. "What do you want from me?"

He knew he was on the border between begging for Juliet's safety and being defiantly uncontrollable, but the whole point of this mission was to save the official's daughter, and he wasn't going to risk her death.

"I want you to _face_ yourself—who you really are," Lauren spat out, the gun never wavering. "You're not MI6's golden boy: never making a mistake or never wavering. You're just a kid with problems, and everyone needs to see who you really are: a murderer, a killer that needs to be _put down._ "

Alex glared at her, his scathing look speaking volumes for itself. The lady was crazy. If this really was Thirteen, she had changed dramatically. Alex didn't know her. He didn't know her at all.

"You're crazy," he decided out loud, his arms crossed across his chest.

Lauren's face split into a grin, instantly putting Alex on edge. She made a small hand gesture to Tyler, and the man slapped Juliet across the face, issuing a small cry of pain from the girl. Tears of pain welled in her eyes and overflowed, dripping down her cheeks.

Alex gritted his teeth, but otherwise didn't react to the girl's pain. It was obvious that Lauren wanted to get a rise out of him.

The smile on Lauren's face never wavered, even as Alex stared, blank-faced, at the girl hanging limply from Tyler's arms. She slowly lowered the gun in her hand, her voice mocking him as she taunted, "Aren't you going to rescue your damsel in distress, Alex? Don't you have a duty to your country?"

She motioned again, and this time, Tyler threw her across the room like a rag doll.

"Stop it," Alex managed to get out through gritted teeth. He was shaking with fury, watching the scene in front of him. Lauren was watching him smugly, and Tyler was advancing on the defenseless Juliet like some kind of _coward._ That's what these people were.

"You see, dear Alex," Lauren said, the same smile plastered to her face, "You can't save little Julie—I can call you that, right?—over here. Just like you couldn't save Jack. Just like you couldn't save all those children."

Alex lunged forward as Tyler dealt a heavy kick to Juliet's ribcage. Even at a distance, Alex could still hear the sharp _crack_ of a rib breaking. Lauren stopped Alex in his tracks by firing the gun, missing him by mere inches. He wisely froze on the spot.

"And what do you think happens to the people you 'save'?" Lauren bit out, her smile gone. "What happens after they see so much destruction and hate? They don't go back to normal, you see. They turn into someone like _me_. Do you know what that means? It means you haven't saved them. You've given them life, but at what price? They don't want to live—not after what they've been through!"

Alex watched helplessly as Juliet was pummeled.

Lauren's voice became deathly serious as she leaned closer, twirling a strand of her hair around the nuzzle of her gun, "And that's what _you're_ going to be, little Alex. A survivor that wished he hadn't survived at all."

A*W*O*L

Alex wasn't sure how long the two of them stayed, torturing Juliet physically and himself, mentally. He just knew that at some point, tears had cascaded down his face, and Juliet's pain was almost tangible, but Lauren never stopped. Her sadistic smile was branded into his mind.

He stumbled his way over to Juliet, who laid, battered and broken in a little heap, blood trailing from her head. She coughed painfully, tears sliding down her face in rivers, and blood spewed out of her mouth. Alex knew what that meant: there was blood in her lungs, and soon, she would be drowning in her own blood.

It made Alex sick. How could Lauren— _Thirteen—_ do this? Her issue was with _him,_ not a harmless girl who couldn't protect herself from a beating.

" _Shh..."_ Alex tried to comfort Juliet, stroking her matted hair lightly, "It's going to be okay."

It was a blatant lie, and Juliet knew it. She coughed up more blood, and her breathing became labored.

" _Kill me,_ " Juliet whispered with difficulty. Alex swallowed hard. Without any proper medical treatment, she would die within minutes, probably dying a horrible death filled with panic and the inability to breath.

Even though reason was with him, Alex couldn't do it. He shook his head, "No. No, I can't do it."

Juliet looked at him pleadingly, and for the first time, he noticed that her eyes were a brilliant green. They were glistening with unshed tears as she struggled to take another breath.

"I'm... going to die... either way..." Juliet said with great difficulty, "Rib... lung."

Alex knew what she was saying. Tyler had broken her ribs in a way that had penetrated one of her lungs.

He gently reached over, holding her chin and head as if she were a porcelain doll. She must have noticed the shift in his decision because she closed her eyes, effectively destroying Alex from the inside out.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and before Juliet was given the chance to suffer further, he jerked suddenly, watching as the life faded from Juliet's body.

He had the feeling that her life had faded long before then.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hem... Yeah. Okay bye

-Alice x


	18. Chapter 18

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** THANK YOU ALL FOR THE 200+ REVIEWS! I got so excited when I saw this (I was running around in my room grinning and screeching, the usual, lol). Thank you to _Riderkitty_ for the 200th reviewer! And happy (late) birthday to you, _TomatoPotatoXx!_ (Love the username, by the way). I'm so glad that my updates are making some of your lives better, which is one of the big reasons why I began writing. SO... yeah... I'm feeling strangely feely (what)

Anyway, it means a lot to me to read all of your comments, positive or negative. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you guys, so _THANK YOU_ for your sheer awesomeness.

* * *

AWOL 18

Panther never liked feeling useless, and that was exactly how he felt now. Benched by Lion and feeling irritable due to the throbbing in his shoulder, he was the epitome of helplessness. If only he had been a fraction of a second faster, he could be helping out his unit-mates. Instead, he was stuck behind a computer, monitoring the GPS signal that hadn't moved in the past few hours.

It had taken Ray a whole day to hack into the GPS tracker, which had Panther up the walls in agitation. When Ray finally finished, the GPS tracker had flickered on and off for a good thirty-seconds before shutting down again. Ray had suggested that Lynx had his knife and was trying to figure out all the buttons and gadgets in the thing.

Still, it had taken _another_ day for Ray to re-hack his way in. Apparently, doing the process all over again wasn't any faster than previous attempts. It had taken another few hours to plan out the perfect rescue mission, and by that time, the entire J-Unit was on edge, guns at the ready for the signal.

Panther stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on the pinging dot at the center. He could just fall asleep now, if his nerves weren't pulsating wildly. He could just stop watching because he wasn't sure that signal was going to move.

 _Beep!_

Panther's eyes had begun to stray from the screen when a soft ping alerted him of Lynx's movements. His eyes snapped to the screen, and he reached for his mic, "Panther to J-Unit. He's moving. Repeat: he is moving. Watch out, guys."

A*W*O*L

Time had passed slowly ever since Juliet's death. Alex found himself unable to listen to Lauren's taunting words or to feel the pain that Tyler attempted to inflict on him. He was in horror of what he had to do, and Lauren knew it. She was just trying to figure out the best buttons to push: the ones that would make him break. So far, she had been unsuccessful.

Despite Alex's exterior shell breaking, he still clung on to the piece of hope that he'd get out of there and get back home, where he would be (supposedly) safe at home. He was still trying to find the one weak spot in Lauren's armor.

It was on the second night after Juliet's death that Alex sensed an opening. It was evident that Lauren believed he was giving up and that he would slowly break down given a little more time. She hadn't locked the door properly, and she didn't care that he had his knife, armed with its special capabilities.

He twirled the knife expertly in his hand as he crept up the stairs, careful not to let the floorboards creak under his weight.

Alex, over the course of his last hours, had debated very carefully whether or not to kill Lauren or let her be. It was a hard choice. If he left without acting, she would leave, and he wouldn't be able to track her down again. If he killed her, his life would be free of another vengeful spirit, but he'd also lose his prized morals.

He chose not to kill her.

That left him where he was now, softly turning the knob of the door. He opened the door quietly, peering into the first dark room carefully.

It was dark outside, which Alex had suspected. Even though there were no windows down in the basement where he was kept, Lauren came down at regular intervals. Alex assumed that even evil psychopaths needed sleep too.

He shut the door behind him, holding his knife tightly in his other hand. Surveying the house, he decided the best way to leave was through one of the side doors.

A soft thud broke through the silence of the night. Alex tensed, listening for any indication of what the noise was.

Another _thump_ shattered the silence, and then quiet—but not silent—footsteps headed towards him. Alex quickly darted behind a table, hiding in the shadows.

" _Where do you think he is?"_ someone hissed, his voice carrying through the room loudly, " _Upstairs or down?"_

 _"Down,"_ came the reply. " _Hold on—Panther, what?"_

Alex relaxed as he heard the familiar voices. It was Lion and Tiger, though, what they were doing in America baffled him. He hadn't been missing long enough to warrant a search party, had he?

 _"_ Lion? Tiger?" Alex emerged from his hiding spot slowly. They had a bad habit of shoot first, ask questions later. In the darkness, Alex saw two figures jerk suddenly at his voice.

"Lynx?" Lion moved forward, his boots thudding against the floor. Alex saw his teeth glint as a grin grew over his face.

Alex moved forward too, a small smile gracing his features. It quickly turned into an expression of surprise as Lion reached out and gave him a manly hug.

"Where's the girl?" Tiger questioned softly, examining the room as if Juliet were hiding somewhere, about to jump out and yell ' _surprise!'_

Lion let go of him and clutched his gun tightly, his face set in a renewed kind of determination. Alex's gaze slid to Tiger, and he hesitated, his throat closing up at the question.

Either something in his expression must have given the truth away right away or Tiger was very perceptive because a moment later, his features darkened and he turned away, "Let's get you out of here."

Alex responded with a curt nod, and Lion took the lead, leading the trio back through the other room, to the back door.

"Where's Panther, anyway?" Alex asked curiously, looking around to see if the man was just trying to play a prank on him, even though Alex knew the soldier took his job seriously.

Lion opened the door slowly, trying to eliminate the squeaking, creaking noises that came from the hinges. He spoke carefully as he did this, "He was shot," he paused in what he was doing for a brief moment to tap himself on the shoulder, "right here."

Alex's eyebrows knit themselves together as he began to worry for his unit-mate.

"He's _fine,"_ Lion stressed the last word, ushering Alex out of the house, "Now, get out of here. There should be a black van parked two streets over. Ray's there. Go."

Alex didn't move, "Where are you going?"

Lion exchanged a dark look with Tiger, who stoically shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

"We're going to end this," Lion gently nudged Alex forward, "And you're going to the hospital, you hear me? That's an order."

Alex shook his head, clutching his knife tightly. He stared into Lion's eyes, unyielding, "This is my battle, Lion. I have to end this—for me."

Lion looked like he wanted to bestow some more harsh words onto Alex, but Tiger stepped in, his voice hard with logic, "Stop this, now. We don't have time to argue. The more time we waste, the more time we give this bad son of a bitch time to find us."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but at two slightly venomous looks, he only offered, "The woman, Lauren, is running everything. She's the one you want to get."

It didn't make sense for him to argue. He just wanted Lauren to be gone. He didn't want to deal with her anymore.

Lion nodded firmly, reaching down to pull something out of his ankle holster. He handed Alex a small pistol, "Just in case."

Alex accepted it, gladly folding his knife and shoving it into his pocket. He felt safer carrying a gun than a knife.

Lion and Tiger gave him one more reassuring look before turning and creeping further into the house. Alex spared a quick glance around before leaving, his bare feet silent in the grass.

"Two streets over," Alex muttered to himself as he turned the corner and onto another road. "A black van."

"You won't find a black van two streets over, sweetheart," the voice, feminine and familiar, was snarky in nature and _way_ too close for comfort. Alex liked to think that not much could sneak up on him, but unfortunately, it seemed like Lauren was one of those people who could.

Even as Alex whipped around to face the woman, he knew he had reacted too slowly.

Something cold—very, very cold, cold—was thrust into his abdomen as he turned, breaking his skin and slicing through his flesh. Alex knew he should be feeling something, but he couldn't. All he could see was the blade sticking out of him, and Lauren's grin.

Her hand was still on the knife's handle, and she jerked it back harshly, preparing to stab again.

Even though Alex couldn't feel the pain, he could still think. Hands shaking, he raised his gun and fired, directly in between Lauren's eyes.

 _BANG._

Alex watched as the woman's head jerked backwards from the force of the bullet, dragging her body along with it. The grip on the knife loosened ever so slightly, and the silver blade came tumbling out of her hand, stained with Alex's blood.

As he watched Lauren's body sink backwards into the pavement, Alex didn't feel any joy or any triumph at the death, as he had expected to after Juliet's death. Instead, he just felt oh-so-very cold, and he was aware that the hole in his side was dripping his warm, hot, sticky, viscous blood.

A dull throb began to gnaw its way throughout Alex's body, starting at the knife wound, growing in intensity as each second passed. Alex held a hand up to the wound, shaking at the same time. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to get help, but from where? Alex was too far away from both Ray—who had supposedly been 'taken care' of— and J-Unit, who were undoubtedly still at Lauren's house.

Alex swayed, his head spinning. Colors were exploding every which way, and he let gravity take its natural course. He fell, hands still applying painful pressure to his side.

Alex was never a very religious person, but it dawned on him that he might actually die, alone and without help. With trembling difficulty, he lifted his eyes heavenward and whispered, " _Forgive me_."

At this, his grip relaxed on his wound, and Alex rolled away in a tunnel of white light.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hem, I'm not sure I like how this is written, but I like what happens... ANYWAY, you can probably sense that AWOL is drawing to an end with your super awesome reader superpowers, _but_ not yet! Maybe in a couple or so chapters. Just warning you ahead of time... Okay yeah, CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON(S).

-Alice x


	19. Chapter 19

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** Ah, I can never pick one person to dedicate this to, so I'm going to go onto neutral ground and dedicate this to Anthony Horowitz, the most wonderful and awesome creator of Alex Rider. But still, thank you all for your amazing support, your wonderful ideas, and thank you for prodding me to write. I mean, without you, I think I'd still be back at chapter 11 (the horror). I might not answer all of your reviews because I'm a very lazy and awkward person, and I never know what to say, but I read them all, and I really appreciate what you say!

 **Questions:**

To _Guest,_ whose question was: "Do you intend to finish _Operation Zeta?"_. Um... yes. But to be honest, I really hate everything about it. If I am to continue it, I will rewrite everything. If I decide not to, I'll probably just start a new story, lol

 _agent potter_ asked if I am a Supernatural fan: HECK YEAH. I only just started a month ago (I'm nearly to the end of season 4, lol), but YESSS

* * *

AWOL 19

Alex found himself trapped in a field of white, weightless. The whiteness stretched on endlessly from what he could see. He knew that he should have been panicking at that very moment, but he couldn't help but feel relief. He was done. Done with the world. He was leaving behind all the pain and the sorrow.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, which were clean and white like the room around him and began a leisurely stroll.

He walked for a long time. Days? Months? Eons, maybe. He didn't grow tired, nor did he stop. He just kept walking, the heavy weight, that he didn't realize he carried, off of his shoulders.

"Alex."

Under any normal circumstance, Alex would have leapt into action, gun drawn and mask firmly in place. But here, this place of peace, he simply turned, a grin already making its way on his face.

"Ian," he smiled, greeting his dead uncle cheerfully.

The man hadn't aged since he had last seen him. In fact, he looked younger, and any scars and blemishes were healed.

"Where am I?" Alex asked curiously, looking around. If Alex hadn't known he'd been walking for ages, he would have thought that he was still in the place he'd started.

"The crossroads," Ian told him, placing a firm, warm hand on his shoulder.

Alex looked around again, "There aren't any crossroads here."

Ian shook his head, indicating that they should walk, "They haven't appeared to you because it's not your time yet."

Alex quirked an eyebrow, "What does that mean?" He didn't like the sound of that. He thought that it was all over—that he didn't have to deal with his messed up espionage life.

"Well," Ian pulled himself up in an important manner, "That means that you can either stay here until the crossroads appear to you, or you can go back. It's your choice, and I'm only here to guide you."

"Go back? I thought I was already dead," Alex stopped in his tracks. He really _didn't_ want to go back.

Ian stopped too, his brown eyes locking onto Alex's own, "It's a special case for comatose patients," he explained, "you can either go back or you can wait. If you want to go back, you have to find the door. If you want to stay, you have to wait for the trains—they take forever to come, trust me."

Ian's easy grin made Alex relax. He could wait, he supposed, though patience was never a strong point of his.

"Where would the train take me?" Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Ian shrugged, "I can't tell you that."

Alex frowned at his words, "I think I'll wait, thanks."

He turned away from his uncle, sitting down, hard. He wanted to forget about his reality, and let it drift further and further away until it felt just like a dream. Thirteen, the death of his family, K-Unit: they were all just characters in his head. Nothing more.

Ian sat next to him, his expression pensive, "You would just leave your family and friends behind like that?"

Alex stared down at his feet, bare and pale against the white floor, "I have no family or friends left. You know that."

Ian shook his head, "You're making your own family. What about J-Unit? They've just begun to accept you. When they look at you, they don't see their fallen unit-mate anymore. They don't see an inexperienced soldier, trying to fill the shoes of his predecessor. They see you for who you really are. Isn't that all you've ever wanted?"

Alex played with the hem of his white pants, turning his uncle's words over in his head, "Ian, I don't think I know who I am anymore."

There was a long moment of silence, in which Alex could _feel_ Ian trying to hide his laughter. The older man finally broke, familiar laughter filling Alex's ears, "Sure you do, squirt. You just have to open your eyes a little wider."

Alex was irritated, "Well, that's all just fine and dandy, but it's still not going to convince me to look for this 'door' back to life or something!"

Ian's laughter died out, and he looked down at Alex, seriousness back, "Look, Al. Do you think I was offered this chance when I died? No. I was killed almost instantly. Hell, I wished I could have come back. I was leaving you behind, and no matter how much I begged and begged, John said no."

Alex's interest had been piqued by the mention of his father's name.

"I told him that I had left a nephew back there," Ian sighed before continuing, "and he told me that he'd left behind a son."

Alex's throat closed up.

"So tell me," Ian tapped a finger against one ear, like he used to when Alex wanted to whisper him a 'secret', "What are you leaving behind?"

The answer came immediately to Alex, "J-Unit."

"Do you know how much they've been through already?" Ian wasn't looking at Alex anymore, "Another death of a unit-mate... It wouldn't set them back temporarily. It would eat them from the inside, tearing them apart bit by bit until they end it for themselves."

Alex's throat was dry, and he refused to acknowledge the wetness gathering in his eyes.

"But if you were there, you could help each other. You could heal each other, simply because you're together."

Alex stared at his knees. He tried to reply, but his voice had gone from him. Clearing his throat, he croaked out, "But Ian—" he cleared his throat again, "—I can't take it anymore. I-I can't fight any longer. Lauren—Thirteen was right: I can't save everyone, and every time I can't, it's like there's another soul dragging me down."

Ian shook his head, rising, "Why don't you speak with one of these souls, hm?" And he was gone.

In his place, stood Juliet, looking cleaner and happier than Alex had ever saw her—a good thing, considering the last time he'd seen her was when she was begging for him to end her life.

"Hello, Alex," the girl smiled, "Debating on whether to come or go?"

Alex nodded soundlessly, entranced by what she had to say.

"Just so you know, Lauren was a special case of crazy," Juliet settled down next to him. "No one blames you, Alex. The survivors might be a little resentful at first, but they heal, just like you can."

Alex shook his head, "No one can heal me."

"So you keep saying," Juliet was frowning. "Okay, I'm going to be blunt. Alex Rider, go back to your body. You owe me that much. And tell my father that I don't blame you. I don't hate you. It was my time."

Alex closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

Juliet placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Most of all, I forgive you. Everyone else forgives you too."

He kept his eyes closed, but nodded.

"Good," Juliet sounded pleased with herself, "Now, keep walking straight until you see the doors. You better hurry too. Those J-Unit boys haven't had a good night's rest ever since you've been admitted into the hospital."

When Alex opened his eyes once more, Juliet was gone, and he was once more alone. He wiped the free flowing tears from his eyes before standing, taking another deep breath. He supposed he had a door to find.

"Why me?" Alex murmured to himself as he laid eyes on the small, insignificant, wooden door a few steps away. "Why is it always me?"

As he reached for the handle, Alex could have sworn he heard someone reply, _"Would you have wished this burden on anyone else?"_

And the answer was no.

A*W*O*L

Air. He needed air. That was the first thing Alex thought as he jerked upright, gasping like a fish out of water. Somewhere to the side of him, he heard the wild beeping of his heart rate monitor and several shouts from familiar voices.

"Lynx! Lynx, calm down, damn it!" Someone, Lion, shouted, his best 'unit-leader voice' in place.

Alex took long draws of breath, suddenly aware of the throbbing pain in his side. He calmed down, looking around him. He was in a hospital room, familiar in that it looked like the room he would always wake up in after a particularly stressful mission.

He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. Luckily, Tiger seemed to know exactly what he needed because he shoved a small plastic cup, filled with water in front of him. Alex's hands were too shaky to hold the water, and instead, Tiger helped him sip down the cool drink.

"What... happened...?" Alex's voice was rough and sandy.

Panther made his way into Alex's line of vision, grinning tiredly. Bandages peeked out from underneath his shirt, "Well, mate, you got that bitch... well, right after she got you, but that's not the point. It's over."

"It's not over," Lion rolled his eyes, shoving Panther out of the way lightly. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

Alex grinned guiltily, "There's nothing really to say. I mean, it was MI6."

"We know it was MI6," Lion sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He pinned Alex with a look, "We know you have some kind of history, and we need to know about it. No one keeps secrets in J-Unit. We're a family, and families don't keep each other in the dark."

Alex stared at the unit leader, almost uncomprehendingly. He sighed, "I know... It's just, I don't like talking about what happened back then. Back in my past, I mean."

Tiger put a silencing hand on Lion, "We can respect that, but we need to know when or if you're going to do you disappearing act on us again."

Alex stared at his hands, which were raw and covered with dried flecks of blood, "I dunno. I could get into a lot of trouble. My past is classified by MI6."

Panther dragged a chair to his bedside table. Alex glanced up, noticing the heavy bags underneath his eyes and the tired slouch of his shoulders. Alex looked around at the rest of J-Unit. They all looked similarly tired, dark bags underneath their eyes and sad, tight smiles on their faces.

"How about we tell you about us first? We can swap information. I'll start," Panther looked younger as he leaned forward and grinned, "My name is Castiel. I was born in London, and I'm twenty-four years old. I like candles and trench coats."

Alex raised an eyebrow at Panther (or the newly dubbed Castiel), his jaw hanging slightly open.

"Your turn," Panther prodded his leg.

Alex studied the three men before him, who were looking at him expectantly. He already felt his resolve crumbling.

"You have to promise you'll never tell a soul," Alex warned, getting into a more comfortable position. At the unit's eager nods, he continued, "Seriously. If anyone asks, you can't breathe a word. If MI6 finds out that you know, they'll find a way for you to conveniently die—bus accident, accidental mine explosion, anything like that. They're not above that."

At the unit's persistent nods, Alex sighed once more, "Do you remember that time you," he turned to Panther, "kept telling me about the amazing Alex Rider?"

"Yes?" Panther responded, eyes swimming with apparent confusion.

"Well," Alex smiled, "Hello J-Unit. My name is Alex Rider..."

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 **A/N:** Great llamas above. We have the epilogue left... I'M GOING TO CRY. Not really, but eh. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me throughout this hard, trying journey. HEY, this will be my first completed long work! AHH! Love y'all... don't forget to leave a review! MWAH

-Alice x


	20. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER**

 **Dedication:** Cheesy to say this _again_ , but this is dedicated to you all. I can't even put my gratitude and love into words. Without you guys, I would be no where, stuck in the metaphorical mud.

Heh... and sorry if this doesn't answer your questions and/or address the elephant in the room... well, you'll see xD

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Epilogue

Trevor Lee was a happy man. His life was simple, and the most important decision he had made in quite a while was whether or not to sell his old house. Even that was an easy decision. He would gladly leave behind anything that reminded him of the horrors of his past. Those memories were to be locked up in the recesses of his mind and never to be opened again.

He never did settle down and 'find the right girl' as his friends had put it, but he was still young. After all, he was only thirty-four. Trevor didn't put too much effort into building a family even though his friends had settled down after their life in the SAS.

J-Unit had decided to retire as a unit when Trevor was at the ripe old age of thirty, which was either the best or worst decision of his life.

Trevor admitted that he missed the mornings where Castiel would argue pointlessly with the chefs, and Connor would pull the excitable soldier away with an eye-roll. Theodore would never be too far behind, carrying a spare medical kit just in case the two doofuses decided to hurt themselves.

He missed the silent nights underneath the stars when they went out on missions or training missions. He missed the feeling of their inseparable companionship, and the brotherly banter—not that they had stopped this, of course.

J-Unit had moved into a flat together. Often times, they would bring four sleeping bags to the center of the flat—usually right by the foot of the television—and sleep together, just because there wasn't enough words to shoo away the nightmares.

It had lasted a mere year before Theodore had found a pretty, empathetic soldier—a nurse, if Trevor remembered correctly—to settle down with. They now had their second child on the way, and Trevor had gladly accepted the title of 'godfather'.

Even Castiel and Connor were beginning to settle down. Trevor wasn't surprised per se, when the couple finally came out, but he sure was scarred when he found them half naked on the couch, doing things that _shouldn't_ be done on the couch.

Trevor settled on his bed, sighing heavily. He was alone that day, feeling sorry for himself. He didn't have much to do. His previous jobs with MI6 had paid itself very well, and he didn't have a job except writing articles on and off for a local magazine.

To be honest (he would _never_ say this out loud), he really did miss jobs at MI6.

Shaking the thought off (after all, the last job had shaken him up pretty badly), Trevor turned on the television in his room, eyes drawn to the images as exploding buildings made its way onto the screen.

" _Officials are struggling to find an answer as the clock counts down to the zero mark,"_ the news reporter was saying. " _A COBRA meeting was called early this morning to discuss strategies and important ways to_ stop _this imminent threat. Officials say not to panic, but to stay indoors for safety reasons. This is advised for the next forty-eight hours."_

Trevor promptly shut the T.V. off. He didn't want to hear more about how this terrorist group was going to bomb half the nation.

 _Ring ring!_

Trevor rolled out of bed, reaching for the phone. He was already sure that it was Castiel, trying for the twenty-third time to prank him.

"Hello? Trevor spoke into the receiver, bored.

There was a rustle of paper on the other line, and Trevor was instantly on alert. A pleasant female voice replied, " _Hello Mr. Rider. I'm afraid that we have a delicate situation with your bank account. Please report to the Royal and General Bank immediately."_

Trevor stood, frozen, staring at the wall with his mouth hanging open. Did Castiel finally prank him properly? Even as he thought this, Trevor knew it couldn't be true. His friend wouldn't go _this_ far.

Slowly, a wicked smile climbed its way on his face. He drew himself up confidently, "Tell Jones I'll be right there."

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 **A/N:** It's finally done! Oh my llamas. TEARS. I owe it all to you guys and your amazing support! I LOOOOVE Y'ALL! I feel like _AWOL_ was some kind of plant or animal, like a cactus or the ugly duckling, and your reviews kept the cactus/duck growing. IT HAS MATURED AND IS NOW A _BIG_ CACTUS/SWAN. Anyway, here are some "what now?" answers:

1\. Will _there be a sequel?_

Sorry, but I don't think so. I will definitely keep writing in the fandom though!

2\. Will _I ever write J/K-Unit's reactions to Alex's... everything?_

Maybe? We'll see... Hehe...

3\. Will _there be connected one-shots/drabbles?_

Most likely. Just keep an eye out for those!

OKAY. So I'll be taking a break in writing before I tackle the editing process, which will be a really new experience! YAY! So until then, BYE!

(Hey, I'm not leaving. No tears. *awks moment where I'm the only one crying*)

-Alice x (To keep up with me and my writing habits, follow me on twitter at dalekchung)


	21. AN on Edited AWOL

Hi everyone! I know this may be a surprise, but this isn't a chapter update or anything—SORRY! I'm actually here to update you on my editing. YEP, I'm actually editing for once in my life, haha.

I've only posted two chapters of the updated "AWOL" on Wattpad. I'm pretty sure it's a _lot_ better than this version. So, if you want to read it, feel free to hop over to Wattpad to read it. (Wattpad is a little lonely without you guys, and the AR community over there is smaller than my pinkie toe *tears*)

I'm there as dalekchung as well. I like Wattpad a little better just because there's an inline comment feature, which is awesome to see which particular paragraphs or scenes you guys like the best. I also find it's easier to talk to you guys because I can comment instead of PM-ing you. I do really want to hear what you think about the edited version in comparison with the first draft!

BUT, I was wondering what you guys thought. Do you want me to post it here as well? I would prefer not to, but... yeah...

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 **Here's the synopsis that I have posted on Wattpad:**

Strange things have been happening in the espionage world. Top spy Agent Alex Rider has gone AWOL, and a new SAS soldier has caught the attention of MI6. How long is Trevor Lee going to deny the truth? (Soldiers and spies and unidentified antagonists, oh my!)

xxx

" _His options were limited. Run or die. There was no in between. If he stayed, he would surely be considered a traitor of the country, and MI6 would put him to death..._ _It was a very good thing that Alex Rider specialized at running."_

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Yep, the first part is the same (I couldn't think of anything, lol), and the last part is a direct quote from the edited version. OKAY, tell me what you think!

LOVE YOU

-Alice xx


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